


Closer

by SolidHawk



Series: Take the Gentle Path [2]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, John is absolutely smitten and Anna is experiencing a battle between her morals and her feelings, John's an asshole and I'm trying to turn him towards the light but it's slow work, POV Alternating, Poor Anna's struggle to remain the face of the Resistance while pining for her enemy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 123,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolidHawk/pseuds/SolidHawk
Summary: Deputy Anna Bishop has escaped Holland Valley and put herself out of John Seed's reach, all the while struggling to fight against Faith Seed and the dangerous Bliss she uses to ensnare and entrap her victims. However, the time John and Anna spent together in his bunker has changed them both: John will do anything to get her back and Bishop is conflicted over whether she wants to keep running from him or fall into his arms instead...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome back! <3 I want to take a second to thank everyone who has shown their support and love for Anna, her relationship with John, and my first fic "Breathe" in general. I have been overwhelmed by the positive response and so grateful and humbled by all the reviews and kudos and even happier with all the friends and supporters I've found along the way! I am so blessed and can't thank you all enough! <3 <3 <3  
> (If you're just now tuning in, I heavily suggest you back out and read my other fic "Breathe" first - otherwise not much will make sense in this story, lol)  
> Enjoy!

John Seed strolled up the gravel path towards Seed Ranch, flanked on either side by 4 of his men.

“Fall’s End has dug in – their numbers have grown in the last week and they’re pretty heavily fortified,” one told him. “The good news is they don’t seem prepared for any countermeasures of their own. They’re trapped in the perimeter they’ve created for now.”

“Hmm,” John merely offered in acknowledgment.

“The gas shipments are secure to the west and along the river,” another said, having to double his pace to keep up with John. “There’s been some trouble along the southern routes at night – some sinners trying to ambush the convoys. Should we alter the schedule or just push through?” 

“Push through,” he answered without sparing the man a glance. “If you meet further resistance, drive them back from whence they came.”

He alone ascended the stairs up to the home; when he reached the top step, he turned and faced them all.

“The Father guides our hand so that we will be prepared for the Collapse. Everything we do now will serve to protect us once the world ends in flames,” he told them. “Continue to serve the Father, continue to serve this Project and ensure that Eden will be paradise when we step through its gates.”

Normally, speeches like that inspired everyone who listened in; he could see the brightness enter the eyes of both men and women alike as he preached to them, could feel their devotion and love shining through the very air itself. But he had always had his heart in such proclamations before. Now…now it was a hollow performance.

His men could sense that his words lacked their usual passion; their eyes were worried and dejected but they wisely kept silent and dispersed without prompting, going their separate ways to complete their work.

Morale around the ranch was beginning to become affected from his sullen and brooding mood. There was nothing to merit such an attitude when it came to the Project’s preparations, he knew as he strolled down the hall and into his office; he come to a stop in front of the giant, wooden desk and glancing down at the memos and maps scattered across it. They were making up for lost time: repairing damaged structures, restocking missing supplies, and doubling down on the straggling sinners who weren’t taking sanctuary in the bastion Fall’s End had become for the Resistance.

The Resistance, for its part, was being surprisingly accommodating (for once). Their attacks were now few and far between, focused more on holding what ground they had managed to snatch back out of the hands of Eden’s Gate and rallying their numbers from within.

Things had been quiet for a while now. Quiet was good – quiet meant things were proceeding as planned and on schedule.

And yet…he longed to hear of a silo being destroyed or an outpost being attacked somewhere in the east. At least then he’d know that Anna Bishop was back in his prowling grounds and he could swoop in to catch her again.

And this time, he would not allow her to slip away. There would be no repeat of last time…well, no repeat of the ending anyway.

Fingers rising to his lips, he traced the shape of them, remembering vividly the feel of Anna’s mouth against his. If he closed his eyes, he would be greeted with the image seared in his brain from that moment at the border with the Henbane: the look on Anna’s face as she’d laid there beneath him, hands caressing his face.

Inevitably, he had to move on to what followed…and even now, he still smarted from how easily she’d overpowered him. He’d underestimated her wiles – _he’d absolutely underestimated her physical strength_ – and she had made him the biggest fool of Hope County.

Twice. In the span of minutes…

His anger was brief; soon enough, he felt a smile pulling at his lips as he shook his head fondly. Anna was as smart as she was scrappy – he should have expected nothing less from her.

Pursuing her had been made impossible by the arrival of Faith’s men on the scene. A scowl marred his face as he forced himself to recall their orders to turn around and return to the valley.

 _“Faith says not to worry about the Deputy,”_ he’d been told, their faces all smug and condescending.  _“She already has her.”_

Oh, he’d laid into them with every threat of retribution he could think of…but in the end, there had been nothing he could do. Anna was in Faith’s territory and he wasn’t allowed to interfere in her domain; he’d been forced to retreat back to Holland Valley like a dog with its tail between its legs, stomach taut with anger and the lingering ache of where the deputy had planted her feet on him.

He’d gone straight to Joseph immediately afterwards and implored him to understand. His brother had seemed sympathetic, even appeared to agree with him on Anna’s changing heart…but in the end, he had refused to have Faith relinquish her to him.

 _It’s your sister’s turn to try and persuade her_ , he’d said. _Focus on our work, John. Secure your bunker, make it safe for our family against those who would harm us._

Mention of the successful infiltration of his bunker had practically been a sucker punch and he returned to Holland Valley angry and despondent. And there he had remained, depressed and sulking in his ranch while the world kept on spinning around him.

He hadn’t heard from Anna since that day; not a radio call, not even news of her exploits floating over from the Henbane…it left him anxious, knowing she was completely at Faith’s mercy.

Faith, on the other hand, he had heard from – _plenty_. She made frequent unannounced calls to gleefully inform him of her progress with the Deputy, of how close she was to accepting the Father into her heart and joining their family. He could only sit and glower in silence, the radio in his hand clenched so tightly he was left wondering how much more pressure it would take to destroy it.

Anna didn’t deserve the fate of an Angel. He understood her, knew how she thought and would act…she wouldn’t give in to Faith’s manipulations. And Faith would only ramp up her Bliss intake and eventually break her…until she was no longer the Anna Bishop anyone knew.

No one but Faith seemed impervious to the effects of Bliss. Anna was strong…but even Jacob - the strongest man John knew – had tested himself and tried to withstand its effects and had eventually fallen prey to it, stumbling and slurring about before he was pulled out of its grasp.

No, Anna would not be able to survive the Bliss; no one who turned into an Angel truly “survived”.

John had always viewed those creatures with disdain and revulsion. A handful had been sent to his bunker to help with the more mundane and physically demanding tasks…and he couldn’t help but feel unnerved by their vacant expressions, by how unthinkingly they obeyed every whim and command. It wasn’t by their own choice they had accepted their duties or even accepted the Project. They had no say in anything - which went against everything John tried to preach.

And they were doomed to such an existence as long as they walked the earth; the Project’s doctors he’d sent them to had explained that they were too far gone to ever return to their former selves…lost forever to the Bliss.

That could not happen to Anna – he would not allow it. John felt his hands clench as he tried to rein in his anger. What happened to the people in Faith’s territory might be out of his control, but he’d be damned before he let Anna fall prey to his sister’s cruelty. God had not brought the Deputy to him just to let her suffer such a fate; she was meant to be with him, by his side as the world ended and the path to Eden emerged.

Funny how quickly his perception of her had shifted.

Not long ago, he had despised the deputy above all else. The little vixen that had slapped handcuffs on Joseph and tried to take him from the Project – _from his family_ – and then managed to slip away in the confusion following the start of the Reaping. She hadn’t stayed quiet for long, wreaking havoc in his region almost instantaneously; he had barely even had time to delight in crushing the rebelling forces of Fall’s End before he was receiving word that that town had been easily liberated by a single woman armed with only a pistol and the dog at her side.

With every silo she destroyed and every man she killed, the Resistance in his valley had grown stronger…as had his anger. Who did she think she was, defying the Father so audaciously? What gave her the right to undo all the hard work and preparations the Project had been slaving over for the impending end of the world?

He could never forget that moment at her Baptism – the first time they’d been face to face since the standoff with the whole sheriff’s department in the church - when he’d forced her back under the water and then wrenched her back out. Even through her coughing and sputtering breaths – even through the effects of the Bliss dulling her senses – she had pinned him in a heated glare and stared at him defiantly. The naked hate and raw anger he’d seen in the depths of her eyes had only incited him further; only Joseph’s untimely arrival and subsequent lecture had stayed his hand from sending her back under again.

It took him days later – after her miraculous escape from the armed convoy with the aid of that tiresome Jerome – to realize why that look she had given him bothered him so much. Standing before his bathroom mirror, raging at the Resistance’s growing boldness and seeming incompetence of his own men, he’d fixed his reflection in a withering stare and briefly saw the deputy staring back at him instead. His eyes matched hers, save for one mismatched iris: full of potent anger and vitriol.

That moment had sparked something inside him. Soon enough, she was all he could think of, even as she bolted to Faith and Jacob’s regions and out of his reach. He became obsessed with knowing everything she was doing, mapping out the path she was blazing across the county.

Hudson hadn’t been forthcoming with any information about her, try as he might to sweat it out of her. At first, it had enraged him – _how dare she continue to resist him?!_ – but he’d soon calmed himself when reports starting coming in of the deputy’s return to Holland Valley. He’d have her back in his grasp soon enough and he’d learn everything he wanted straight from the horse’s mouth.

My, how he’d gotten more than he’d bargained for. It’d only taken two days for him to fall for her - and he’d fallen _hard._ Never in his wildest dreams had he thought there’d be someone out there who could fully understand him, who knew his pain and his anger and shared it. Joseph had told Anna at the Baptism that she wasn’t with them by chance or by accident – it was the will of God she was brought to them.

_Brought to me…_

It was God’s plan that he and his brothers should be separated during childhood. It was God’s plan that he should be taken in by the Duncans and subjected to their abuse and loveless discipline.

God had put him through all the trials life had to offer so that when Joseph reunited with him and Jacob, he would be ready to take his place at his brother’s side and prepare for the Collapse Joseph foretold of together. God had brought them to Hope County to build their shelters, to amass their flock and spread the word of the Father to their devoted.

And God had selected Anna Bishop to be the one to break the first seal and usher in the end of the old world; she would bear witness to the flames that would consume the earth and fertilize the very ground they would take shelter beneath and await the return of Eden together.

 _The pain we endured, all the hardships...it was all so we could find each other one day,_ he rationalized. _It’s what God intended – this is fate._

His eyes sought out a familiar glimmer of gold hiding beneath one of his maps; sweeping the papers aside, he reached for the small trinket and brought it up to chest height. He stared at the badge in his hands with quiet fascination for the umpteenth time since it had come into his possession.

_Sheriff. Jackson County. Montana._

The lettering circling the edges was slightly faded from years of wear, but not so much as the shield that sat squarely in the center of the star. His thumb traced the worn path Anna’s fingers had smoothed out over the last decade in a ritual he could only guess was meant to comfort and draw strength from. It had a calming effect on him as well, knowing that Anna’s gentle touch was nearly within reach as he smoothed his finger over her practiced path. He’d long since found he couldn’t follow the exact shape of her circle with his thumb; Anna’s fingers were far smaller and daintier than his.

The thought brought a smile to his face as he reminisced once more on the feel of those fingers tangled in his hair and caressing his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he could easily conjure the image of her mismatched eyes staring up into his with unrestrained passion and warmth. The way she had whispered out his name continued to haunt his dreams, filling his head with the infinite number of ways she could gasp and sigh the sound out in the future.

“Anna,” he spoke aloud to the empty room. “Where are you now?”

* * *

 

Sunlight streamed down into Bishop’s face, forcing her to cringe behind closed eyelids. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, taking in the unfocused shape of her hand lying in front of her face. She stared at the appendage until the fuzzy edges started to dissipate and she started to gain some semblance of clarity before unsteadily pushing herself up into a sitting position.

Her vision was still sparkling at the corners from the lingering effects of Bliss. She raised the corner of her sweatshirt and wiped lazily at her eyes, as if she could somehow force the drug from her system that way. Where in the hell was she? What was she wearing?

Gaze falling downwards, she read the words embossed across her stomach slowly: _What Are You Smiling At?_

“Sharky…,” she said aloud, voice hoarse.

She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen him…it seemed so long ago. He and Boomer were both swimming across the Henbane as she ran through the forest, taking the armed convoy with her and away from them. She’d been forced to hide and then had sprinted for the bridge to Henbane territory…and…and…

Flopping back down in the grass unceremoniously, Bishop covered her face with the sleeves of the hoodie, desperately trying to smother the blush that made her face burn hot.

Oh yes…she remembered what had come next. _Vividly._

It seemed impossible to banish that memory – it burned like a candle in the dark haze that was her muddled mind. John finally catching her and pinning her to the ground, staring down triumphantly at her trapped beneath him. How his breath had caught when she grabbed him and pulled him down to meet her lips, or how eagerly he’d reciprocated when he’d recovered his senses.

She almost felt guilty for having ruined such a beautiful moment…almost. Still, she couldn’t stop her gut from clenching as she replayed the shocked look on his face when she’d kicked free of him and sent him sailing; or tremble at the anger in his voice when he’d briefly trapped her again at the truck stop. 

Where had he disappeared to after that? She still didn’t understand what had become of him – he had been in such hot pursuit, there was no way he would have just given up the chase like that. Unless he knew that Faith was waiting for her just over the ridge and had shepherded her right to his sister?

That thought was discomforting. She’d upset him with her actions, absolutely…but enough to put her at the mercy of Faith and her Bliss?

Everything had gone dark after Faith had appeared before her; when she finally came back to awareness, she was in the most ethereal looking place she had even seen. There was no way it could have been Hope County…and yet, the giant looming statue of Joseph Seed had been there in the background as Faith took her by the hands and lead her through the grassy fields towards it.

And then they had taken flight and Bishop knew it was some sort of hallucination.

But it had felt _so real:_ the flight, the jump, the drop…

She wasn’t sure why she had taken the leap. It just seemed…right. Faith had been so sweet and cajoling that Bishop had found herself ready to do anything for her; a single jump seemed like she was asking for so little.

Still, she had been scared; she watched the Marshal drop off the edge without a second’s hesitation and had recoiled away after she failed to reach out and grab him in time. Trembling legs had carried her to the edge moments later to peer down at the ground hundreds of feet below and had felt herself paralyzed with fear. But Faith had spoken to her again - so encouraging and warm – and all her nerves had suddenly vanished and she took the plunge without thinking.

It was only as the ground was quickly flying up to meet her that she thought to be worried again - but by that time it was too late. The last thought she had before she hit the rocks was of John and almost even called out to him before everything went dark.

She didn’t know how long it took her to wake up later. Groggily, she’d forced her eyes open and struggled to rise to even a sitting position, her vision sparkling and swaying from Bliss. The gigantic field of Bliss flowers she was nestled in couldn’t have helped matters either…she chalked up their influence as the reason she heard Faith’s voice echoing in her head praising her and encouraging her to walk the Path.

Getting to her feet had been a challenge; even when she was up from the ground, she wasn’t certain she could stay upright. She stumbled and trudged forward unsteadily, vision swimming in and out of focus. It took her some time to realize she probably looked exactly like those horrifying Angels did as they ambled along aimlessly through the wilderness. By that time, she felt herself growing faint and had found a place far away from the sea of Bliss flowers to fall down and drift back to sleep.

Only now was she coming back from that state of unconsciousness, still delirious despite feeling more alert and aware than she had the last time she had awoken. How much time had passed? Just where in the fuck was she?!

Her hand reached towards her chest to dig into a pocket…only to realize she didn’t have a pocket there or even the item she was looking for. She had to remind herself that John Seed was still in possession of her father’s sheriff badge – the single most prized possession she owned – and contend with another wave of grief and anguish. Struggling to find the walkie clipped on her belt, Bishop tried to divert her focus anywhere else other than on her own heartache.

Bliss was not kind on her memory; she could barely think of the frequencies for Fall’s End or the Cougars up at the jail. Only one was dredged up from the depths of her brain and she grasped it as firmly as she could, cranking her radio to the channel number floating through her mind before it drifted away.

“He-hello?” she croaked out, throat still dry as a bone.

“Kid?” Dutch’s voice greeted her instantly. “Jesus christ, what the hell happened to you? I’ve been trying to reach ya for days!”

“John ambushed me and Sharky…,” she explained tiredly. “Barely got away…Bliss…”

“Damn - got dosed, did ya?” Dutch asked warily. “You’re probably still doped up – it can take days for that shit to get out of your system. Listen, the best thing you can do is find someplace secure and let yourself level out, got it?”

“Yeah,” she answered as she stared down at her boots blankly. “Alright, I’ll do what I can.”

“Stay safe, kid,” Dutch warned. “You might be out of John’s clutches but you’re in even greater danger now that you’re subject to Faith’s little mind games. Don’t trust anything you see or hear. Dutch, out.”

Normally, Bishop appreciated how brief Dutch was in his calls; she also preferred getting down to brass tacks and avoiding small talk. But right now, she could have used someone talking in her ear as she struggled to stand on her own two feet. He probably had better things to do – might even do some of her work for her and contact Fall’s End and the Cougars – but it left her feeling unspeakably lonely.

Her radio was still in her hand and she just barely caught herself from turning it to the main police line. Barely anyone used it anymore after she’d been ambushed and taken down into John’s bunker from a hoax call on it…the only ones who still did seemed to be John and herself when they were trying to get in contact with each other.

 _What’s the matter with you?_ Her brain supplied sluggishly. _If you want to hear his voice so badly, why did you run from him?_

There wasn’t an easy answer to that. John was the enemy, and as the (unhappy) face of the Resistance Bishop couldn’t let herself fall prey to him again. Still…her heart longed for him. She craved the warmth she had felt in the brief time he’d had her pinned to the ground – the feel of his lips against hers and his hands in her hair. The look he had given her after they’d pulled apart was so affectionate and soft…it had almost hurt to pull the rug out from under him when she’d kicked free and sent him flying.

Almost.

“Stop being selfish,” she growled aloud, willing the weight of her words to sink into her brain.

The Ryes, Hudson, Pratt, Jerome, Sharky, Boomer…there were plenty of others she could bring to the forefront of her mind that didn’t benefit from her dwelling on John. They were all counting on her to stay strong and help lead the charge that would eventually drive Eden’s Gate away or into the ground.

Still…why not be a little selfish? She’d earned that right after all she had done and sacrificed in the name of the Resistance. As she walked, she closed her eyes and remembered the scratch of John’s beard against her chin as he kissed her back and let herself revel in the memory of it.

The moment was short-lived, however, by the sudden sound of humming that sent all the hairs on the back of her neck and arms standing on end. Whirling around, she caught sight of Faith not far away, strolling through the grassy field leisurely, arms crossed behind her back.

“Is it so selfish to want more from life?” Faith asked her curiously. “The Father extends his hand to you, to show you a better path. The Leap of Faith was your declaration you’ve accepted his Word into your heart. All we ask is you keep walking the Path – we will be with you every step of the way.”

Bishop could only gape at her for a minute before slowly approaching. She was so certain that woman before he was an illusion…and yet, she seemed to have heard her speaking to herself just moments before.

“Your ‘friends’ demand everything from you – never asking, only taking. Sooner or later, what will there be left for them to take?” Faith noted as she wove through the grass, fingers dancing atop the blades as she stretched her arms out to either side.

Bishop couldn’t bring herself to argue with her: it hadn’t escaped her notice that people had stopped asking for help and simply expected it instead. She was Resistance, yes, and a Junior Deputy of the Hope County Sheriff’s Department on top of that; it was her duty to provide aid wherever she could. Still…she would be a liar if she tried to say it didn’t burn a little every so often when someone made ridiculous demands and put all the responsibility on her shoulders.

“The Project, the Father…they wait with open arms, ready to give you all the love and support you deserve,” Faith continued, stopping to watch Bishop slowly drawing closer. “Eden’s Gate is waiting for you…come join us.”

Reaching out with unsteady fingers, Bishop tried touching the woman in white before her. Just as her fingers should have grazed flesh, however, Faith vanished in a puff of hazy, green smoke, white Bliss petals raining down from the sky lazily. Bishop could only stand and stare in absolute bewilderment, trying to make sense of everything she had just seen and heard.

Nothing made sense anymore…she thought she understood that once the cult had managed to take over and isolate a whole county from the rest of Montana. But even now she was still shocked by the things she saw and heard. Faith Seed seemed to be something otherworldly…how did she do the things she did? Just what was Bliss and what was the extent of its capabilities?

Her mind immediately jumped to John again and she let herself feel regret for having managed to outfox him before. At least she understood how John operated – none of this near magical bullshit Faith was pulling. What she wouldn’t give to be back in Holland Valley and back to some semblance of normalcy…

Still, she dragged herself back on the path she’d been previously treading and tried taking stock of her surroundings. The statue of the Father loomed behind her (and she tried her best to ignore the shiver of terror that raced up and down her spine as her mind questioned whether that experience had been real or not) meaning the Hope County Jail was due straight ahead.

In the middle lay Boshaw Manor, Sharky’s residence; whether or not he would be there was uncertain. She’d told him to head for the jail and to wait for her there…but that was apparently days ago. Was he still there? Or had he even made it there at all?

She refused to entertain such a notion: no, Sharky and Boomer were both just fine. They were out there waiting for her to rendezvous so they could head out together again, a fully functional unit once more. There was no way she was making it to the jail by nightfall without food or water or a little more rest; she’d stop in at Sharky’s place, restock and freshen up, and then continue onwards.

It was a lengthy trek on foot in her state and she barely felt up for the journey…but she forced herself to start walking with a sigh.

 _Keep yourself busy_ , she egged herself on.   _Don’t think about how tired you are._

Heeding her own advice for once, she let her mind wander to anything other than the leaden feeling of in legs. Unsurprisingly, the memory of John and that desperate chase to the border of Holland Valley sprang forward first. She let herself become immersed in thoughts of John and his soft lips – when she made it to the jail, she knew it would be back to business and she’d have to curtail such wistful reminiscing in the presence of the disapproving Resistance.

Maybe Faith wasn’t entirely wrong – why not be selfish and let John be the one thing they couldn’t take from her? Bishop couldn’t be entirely sure how much of that sentiment was the Bliss talking and how much of it was a corner of her heart that seemed to have grown much larger and dominant in the last few weeks. Either way, her focus was centered on the memory of him and away from the whispers in her ears and the flickering of her vision that didn't seem to be fading away even as she pulled herself further out of her Bliss fueled stupor. 

* * *

 

 

"I feel depressed, I feel so bad  
'Cause you're the best girl that I've ever had  
I can't get your love, I can't get a fraction  
Oh, little girl, psychotic reaction  
And it feels like this  
  
I feel so lonely night and day  
I can't get your love, I must stay away  
Well, I need you, girl, by my side  
Oh, little girl, would you like to take a ride now?  
I can't get your love, I can't get satisfaction  
Oh, little girl, psychotic reaction"

 

_Psychotic Reaction, Count Five_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapters are the worst - I will bemoan this until the day I die, lol. Second chapter is inbound shortly because I would hate to leave it just here. Thanks so much for reading - I hope anyone returning from the first story is ready to saddle up for another journey with me because it's a long road ahead for both John and Anna! ;) <3


	2. Chapter 2

The jail was finally coming in to view as Bishop rounded the bend, a small speck growing steadily larger with each step. She took heart from the sight of it, feeling rejuvenated from allies and sanctuary almost within reach. The feeling was short-lived, however, as she heard the lilting voice of Faith singing to her from somewhere up in the hills. Trying to ignore the budding desire to turn around and look for her, Bishop forced herself into a trot down the road and up to the gates.

“Holy shit - Deputy?” she heard someone call from upon the wall. “Is that you?”

Lazily raising a hand in acknowledgment, she continued her stroll up to the access door without slowing her gait; by the time she arrived, someone already had it held open for her. The main courtyard was quiet and calm, a stark contrast to the first time she’d been here and had arrived to a scene of utter chaos. People were streaming in and out of the main building, talking amongst themselves as they refortified positions, moved supplies, and swapped watch shifts.

Their numbers looked far better than before – the Cougars actually resembled a fighting force for a change. It heartened Bishop, making her realize that while the Project had numbers on their side, the Resistance wasn’t such an underwhelming minority after all.

“Anna!”

Bishop looked up at the call just in time to catch sight of a mop of golden hair hurtling toward her before the inevitable collision. Just barely staying upright, she swayed dangerously for a second before regaining her footing and looking at the younger girl embracing her tightly. A smile worked its way onto her face before she returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around her tightly.

“Hannah,” she greeted giving herself a moment to regain her breath. “God, it’s good to see you.”

It truly was; as the young girl pulled back to beam up at her, Bishop gave her a good once over. Freedom from John’s bunker had done wonders for them both – Hannah looked clean and perky, so unlike the last time she had seen her before they were pulled apart in their desperate escape from underground. Her eyes were so bright and full of happiness that for a moment Bishop’s heart was full…until she saw Laura running towards them, face full of joy, and she felt her chest could burst from elation.

They formed a group hug that was far too tight and overbearing but Bishop forced her anxiety aside in favor of relishing in the feeling of them all reunited. Well, almost all reunited…she held tight for a minute before pulling back and inquiring about Trish’s status.

“She’s out on patrol somewhere east,” Laura informed her easily. “She’ll be sorry to have missed you.”

“So long as she’s safe, that’s enough for me,” Bishop replied.

From their brief interactions, she had a feeling Trish felt similarly; Bishop didn’t anticipate her being a part of any group or singular hugs, but she knew that she would have been pleased to see her all the same.

Hannah suddenly had Bishop’s hands in hers; the deputy could only stare down at them for a moment before she felt herself being tugged along behind the younger girl.

“Come on!” Hannah said cheerfully. “I want you to meet some people.”

Laura waved goodbye with a promise of seeing them both later before joining a group of others cleaning and prepping firearms off to the side. That left Bishop alone to follow behind Hannah, wondering where they were going. The girl was winding a path through administration and back towards the cells; Bishop could only nod or give a single word of greeting to those recognizing and acknowledging her as she was forced to tread onwards.

They pushed through the doors towards the heart of the jail, in the midst of the supplies stacked in the center of the cellblock. A handful of people mingled out in the open; the rest were in their separate cells, resting from a long shift on watch or escaping the heat of the outdoors. Hannah was pulling Bishop straight towards a couple standing off to the side, speaking quietly with each other; they both looked up as Hannah approached and smiled fondly at her.

The man had thick, golden hair and the woman had soft, brown doe eyes; it took only a moment for Bishop to realize who they were and felt herself take in a sharp breath.

“Mom, Dad – this Deputy Bishop,” she introduced, casting a coy glance back at Bishop.

How they all managed to reunite after everything they had all been through was nothing short of a miracle; Bishop felt her heart swell with joy for Hannah, glad that some good things were still within reach even amidst all the chaos and despair. Hannah’s parents eyes alit as they stared at her a moment before stepping forward.

Bishop forced herself to stand still under their adoring eyes, even as she felt herself squirming to turn away. Hannah’s father reached out to clap a hand on her shoulder, a smile stretching across his face.

“Deputy…words can’t even begin to express our gratitude,” the man said.

Bishop couldn’t hold his gaze, feeling her gut clench with nerves; she forced her eyes elsewhere, ignoring how hot her face had become. His hand was trembling on her shoulder and she felt acutely aware of how every muscle in her body tensed in response to such palpable emotion.

“I didn’t do much,” she murmured bashfully.

Hannah’s mother stepped forward, taking Bishop’s hands in hers and drawing her gaze to her. The woman’s brown eyes were brimming with joyful tears and the deputy could only just bring herself to return her stare.

“You are a godsend, Deputy,” Hannah’s mother said, smiling even as she started to silently cry.

Humbled, Bishop felt her bottom lip quiver ever so slightly as she nodded sharply, fighting to keep her own eyes dry. Without warning, Hannah’s mother seized her in an embrace, squeezing her tightly; before Bishop had a chance to ease her rigidness, Hannah’s father had joined them, wrapping his arms around them both.

For a moment, she felt transported back over a full decade as memories of her own parents embracing her came surging back to the front of her mind. Hot tears burned the corner of her eyes and she blinked rapidly to force them away, just soaking in the tight embrace as Hannah came in to join them, pressing in against Bishop’s side fondly.

“Easy there, Pete,” a familiar gruff voice called, breaking up the emotional moment. “Don’t need you putting my star Deputy out of commission just as things are heatin’ up.”

Hannah and her parents finally released Bishop and gave her room to breathe; she glanced up appreciatively at Sheriff Whitehorse as he approached, eyes crinkling with his fond smile.

“Good to see ya, Rook,” he greeted.

“Likewise, sir,” she answered respectfully.

He jerked his head back towards the administration wing.

“C’mon, walk with me,” he said.

Waving farewell to Hannah and her parents – promising returning to see them all later – Bishop obediently fell in line behind the Sheriff as he led the way out of the cell block. Only when they were out of earshot did the he finally speak to her again.

“Gotta admit...I wasn’t sure if I was ever gonna see you again, Rook. Contacted by half a dozen people in the last week alone telling me all sorts of trouble you’ve been getting yourself into. I’ve heard from Dutch, and I’ve heard from Fall’s End, and I’ve heard from Sharky Boshaw-”

“Sharky?!” she demanded, turning on him swiftly. “He’s alright?! Did he make it here-?!”

“Easy!” Whitehorse begged, holding his hands up in surrender. “Yes, Boshaw made it here with ol Boomer and was no worse for wear.”

Bishop exhaled out a laugh, feeling a great weight lifted off her chest as she reveled in the news. Sharky was safe, Boomer was fine! All was right in her world for the moment – she couldn’t ask for more.

“Where is he?” Bishop asked, looking around for any sign of him lurking around the corner. “Are they still here?”

“No, you missed them,” Whitehorse answered. “Boshaw said he was off for Drubman Marina yesterday when you still hadn’t shown back up.”

“We got separated a while back…,” Bishop mused, heart rending with guilt.

Poor Sharky. He was still blaming himself for John capturing her the first time – she hoped he wasn’t under the belief she’d been taken again and beating himself up even more than before.

“He filled us in on what happened,” the Sheriff said simply, giving her a sidelong glance. “That’s three close shaves you’ve had with John Seed now…”

“I don’t think the second time counts as a shave,” she said meekly, feeling her cheeks heat at the thought of John. “He had me…it’s only 'cause of Sharky and Nick and the others that I’m even standing here now.”

“They got both you and Hudson out,” Whitehorse said with a nod and a smile. “That’s about the best news we’ve had in a long time. It certainly fired the Cougars up – given us an extra push out here against Faith and her Bliss.”

“Any news on Pratt?” she asked fervently; after a moment, she remembered the Marshal and his plunge off the Father statue in her fever dream. “Or Burke?”

The Sheriff’s face instantly grew tired and strained and Bishop felt her heart drop.

“Nothing on Pratt,” Whitehorse said with a shake of his head. “It’s so hard to get a signal out in the Whitetails, something’s off with their frequencies…Burke, well…we’ve caught sight of him at least.”

Bishop blinked in surprise, turning her gaze back on the Sheriff questioningly.

“He’s alright?” she asked.

Whitehorse made a face at her as he ushered her in the doorway ahead of him.

“Not exactly,” he said cryptically.

Before she could question him further, the sound of footsteps approaching reached her ears; she looked up in time to see Virgil Minkler and Tracey Lader walking through the doorway together.

“Deputy!” Virgil greeted cheerfully, rushing up to grasp her by the shoulders. “Good to see ya!”

“Likewise, Virgil,” she said with a smile before gesturing towards Sharky’s dirty sweatshirt. “Sorry to say I lost my pin a few weeks back. It’s been…a pretty wild time.”

“I’ll say,” Tracey joined in with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sounds like you got about as many lives as a cat.”

“I’m running out of them real fast,” Bishop answered with a sigh. “Getting real hard avoiding capture parties and ambushes…”

“Not to worry, Deputy,” Virgil said as he dug around in his pocket and brandished a new pin at her. “We have you covered!”

She accepted it from his hands with a soft “thanks” before pinning it over her breast, making a promise to herself to try and hold onto this one.

 _If you_ can _hold on to anything anymore_ , her mind supplied bitterly for her as she remembered her father’s badge and felt a fresh pang of despair at its absence.

“Heard John Seed had you at his mercy for a while there,” Tracey said after a moment. “He brand and flay you?”

“Branded? Yes,” she answered tiredly, shoving her hands in the sweatshirt’s front pocket. “Flayed? No, fortunately.”

“Well, let’s see it,” Tracey prodded, gesturing at her chest.

“Tracey!” Virgil chastised her quickly. “That’s unspeakably rude!”

“It’s fine,” Bishop assured him as she dug her hands out of the pocket and struggled to pull the sweatshirt up over her head.

All eyes were on the expanse of bare flesh beneath her collarbones as she folded Sharky’s sweatshirt over one arm and busied herself with smoothing it out. She wasn’t ashamed of her tattoo per say…but the intense scrutiny and attention it attracted to her was something she wasn’t fully comfortable with. Still, she braced herself under the weight of their stares and let them have a moment to take it in; eventually, she messed with the bottom of her tank top and gave them the subtle cue to stop gawking.

“There’s worse sins to be guilty of,” Tracey finally said with another smirk. “You’re in good company here.”

“Hope this isn’t too forward of me saying that I wouldn’t have pegged that to be your sin, Deputy,” Virgil offered up carefully. “You don’t seem all that angry to me.”

It took great restraint not to laugh at such a remark. Instead, she offered him a tight lipped smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Spend a little time with me outside these walls and you’ll see,” she said simply.

She set about pulling the sweatshirt back on, not liking the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her. Turning back to the Sheriff, she looked at him pointedly as she shoved her arms back in the sleeves.

“What were you saying about the Marshal?” she asked.

Whitehorse sighed as he leaned back against one of the medicine cabinets lined up against the wall.

“He’s been spotted more than once out there,” he said. “Walking that cursed Pilgrimage, out in the fields wandering through the flowers…he’s deep in the Bliss, Rook.”

He looked up at her with a grave expression.

“Faith’s got her claws in him deep…he can’t have too much longer before she fully claims him.”

Bishop felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. It only occurred to her now that she should have tried to make a grab for him while he was seemingly within reach…but would it have really mattered? Had he and Faith actually even been there or had it all been in her mind? She had no idea of the extent of Bliss’s influence and properties; how did she know what was real and what was not anymore?

“You’ve met Faith too.”

Bishop looked up to see Tracey staring at her. It wasn’t a question; Tracey’s eyes were knowing, boring into her almost accusingly.

“Yeah,” Bishop finally admitted softly, “I’ve met her.”

Virgil and the Sheriff exchanged uneasy glances that didn’t escape her notice. Tracey continued to hold her gaze unblinkingly.

“She make you walk the Pilgrimage?”

“No,” Bishop answered as her brow furrowed. “I didn’t have to walk any path. Something about a Leap of Faith…”

“Practically the same thing,” Tracey said as her eyes narrowed. “That’s step one in her indoctrination. She’s already got a grip on you, Rook…”

Bishop looked from her to the Sheriff and Virgil in alarm.

“I d-don’t feel different,” she protested weakly.

“For now,” Tracey spoke up before Virgil had a chance to. “Won’t take long before you’re spotting her popping up in places she shouldn’t be, hearing her whispering in your ear…”

Bishop stared at her hands hidden in the length of Sharky’s enormous sleeves and felt a brief thrill of panic course through her. That was already happening – what came next?! Would there be some sudden change as Tracey was making it out to be? One moment, she’s fighting in the name of the Resistance…the next, suddenly serving the Project without question?

“Just remain careful, Rook,” the Sheriff spoke up, having caught wind of her mounting anxiety. “Stay away from the water, stay away from the pockets of green smoke they have out on the roads, and keep clear of those fields of flowers. Keep your head clean and you’ll be fine.”

She merely nodded, trying to calm herself with deep, steadying breaths. Still, she felt deeply unnerved the knowledge that Faith was already two steps ahead of her. The playing field had been altered without her even realizing it…and she seemed to be playing several men down.

Suddenly she found herself wondering if letting John capture her all those days before hadn’t been the best case scenario available to her…

* * *

 

Everyone and their brother seemed intent on dogging Bishop’s steps for the next couple hours. If it wasn’t Virgil talking her ear off, it was Hannah and Laura attempting to drag her into a crowd of people to regale them with her exploits, or random strangers coming up to thank her for her service and hug her repeatedly.

Bishop hadn’t felt such discomfort in a long time; the spotlight had never been where she desired to live her life…and in such a short span of time she had been unceremoniously thrust and left beneath it. It was a welcome relief to find a small break in the action of her swarming admirers to take advantage of and slip out into the main courtyard unnoticed.

She’d avoided climbing the walls to stumble across anyone on watch up there who might want to interact with her further; her social battery had been all but drained and she longed for some solitude to recharge. There were crates stacked over by the far side of the building that were out of the way and unguarded; Bishop immediately claimed them as sanctuary for herself, leaping atop one and sitting with her legs dangling over the side.  

For a while, she simply sat and stared up at the cloudy skies overhead. Autumn was in full swing, the night air brisk and chilling as the wind blew over the jail’s walls. Shivering under Sharky’s sweatshirt, Bishop felt a kindling of worry ignite in her gut. Soon enough, fall would shift to winter; sure, the days were still warm and hazy but that could change in an instant.

Would this conflict be wrapped up in time to avoid the first snow? She hated imagining having to plunge through feet upon feet of white powder, battling both the elements and the Peggies. A small hope still remained in her heart that sooner or later the outside world would take notice of Hope County’s absence and come looking for them…but it grew smaller with each passing day.

 _If someone was gonna come, they would have by now_ , her mind supplied bitterly. _We’re on our own._

She couldn’t bring herself to argue with the thought – waiting for someone else to intervene was pointless…and by and large not her style. It would take assistance from every Resistance member, however, and Bishop forced herself to remember she wasn’t alone in this seemingly endless struggle.

Reaching for the walkie at her hip, she swapped frequencies and forced herself to speak.

“Sharky, it’s Bishop,” she said. “You there? Over.”

There was a long stretch of silence that had her bringing the radio back up to her face to speak again, only to be interrupted by several clicks of static.

“Holy shit, Dep!” Sharky’s voice cut in after a moment, equal parts ecstatic and astonished. “You’re okay?! You are fucking Robocop, I swear it! You do the fucking impossible!”

He didn’t sound fully sober, which didn’t surprise Bishop in the least, but it did nothing to squash the joy burning bright inside her chest at finally hearing his voice again – truly knowing he was okay.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she told him. “Man, do I have a story for you…”

“I fucking bet!” he replied loudly. “I thought for sure you were miles underground again, being made into John’s fucking trophy wife or something.”

She flushed at the image he conjured up, glad no one else was around to hear him. From her end, anyway…

“Anybody with you?” she asked quickly, suspicion growing. “Who’s around to hear any of this?”

“No…nobody,” his voice faded in and out as he audibly glanced over his shoulders. “Just you and me and my ol’ pal tequila.”

She made a face at his drink of choice, realizing he was far more wasted than she first realized.

“Are you still at the marina?” she questioned further.

“Yepppp. Just been here sitting and drinking and thinking how I let you down again and would probably never see you again…And that you were probably getting railed by John Seed and weren’t even thinking about me…and being weirdly turned on by the thought of you and John getting it on. Not weird ‘cause of you, since you’re super-hot and incredible and I’ve thought about you like that before…but like, weird ‘cause John was in the equation, and I hate him-”

“SHARKY,” she said, voice squeaking with mortification. “STOP!”

There was a sound of liquid sloshing and his train of thought was derailed as he cursed and tended to his clearly spilled drink. Bishop was grateful for the momentary reprieve, feeling herself sweating under the suddenly unforgiving heat radiating off her and trapped in the confines of Sharky’s sweatshirt.

‘-fucking spilled that shit everywhere!” Sharky’s slurring voice finally came back in full. “Know how much this shit costs? Well…it didn’t cost me anything, ‘cause I stole it, but if I had bought it-”

“Sharky,” she interrupted him again, hoping he could remember anything she was trying to tell him. “Stay put, okay? I will come to you tomorrow – got that? Do not leave the marina. I will be there soon.”

“Come to you?” he repeated slowly. “You want me to come to you?”  
“NO! STAY PUT!” she said loudly, trying not to get aggravated with him. “DO NOT MOVE.”

“Stay put…?” he asked after a moment. “Right here…?”

As Bishop was running a hand down her face to rein in her temper, there was audible noise from someone other than Sharky on his end of the line. Sharky grew muffled as he turned to address the newcomer and Bishop could only catch part of a garbled conversation being carried out.

“Listen, Sharky?” she called out, trying to draw his attention back in. “Just stay where you are and I’ll set out tomorrow to come meet you.”

There was a brief commotion that sounded like a struggle and Bishop had a moment to feel alarm before a new voice cut in.

“Hi-ya, Sugar!”

Blinking in surprise, Bishop had only a moment to regain her senses.

“Adelaide?” she asked.

“Oh, Deputy, it’s so good to hear from you!” the older woman cooed, sounding pleased as punch. “I hear John Seed had you down in his sex dungeon – hope he didn’t play too rough now! He must have all manner of toys down there, mmm-mmm-mmmm!”

First Sharky and now Adelaide…Bishop felt her face burning, mortified at the two of them together making such comments. She could only pray that Sharky had kept his word and not told his aunt about the knowledge of John Seed only he was privy to; if Adelaide knew about that kiss or anything else that had followed, Bishop would never hear the end of it.     

“W-well they managed to bust me out, that’s what matters!” she supplied lamely, running a hand through her hair nervously. “Listen, it’s good to hear your voice, Adelaide. My plan is to head towards the marina tomorrow – will you be around in the next few days?”

“Of course, sweetheart!” she replied happily. “Oh, it’ll be so good to see you! Sweet Boomer here is missing you something awful!”

Warming at the thought of Boomer, Bishop finally felt a smile return to her face.

“How’s he doing?” she asked. “I miss him too.”

“Oh, he’s doing just fine!” Adelaide assured her. “…couldn’t have asked for a worse person to look after him than Sharky. Well, maybe my son…but no worries, he’s got me looking after him now, he’ll be all set until you come and get him!”

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “I’ll try to find a car and get there sometime by nightfall.”

“Don’t keep me waiting, darlin’!” Adelaide crooned.

“…is it too much to ask to try and keep Sharky hanging around there a little while longer?” Bishop asked carefully.

Adelaide’s sigh of exasperation was long and drawn out.

“He’s already started 4 fires in the span of two days. Sure, I’ll make him stay put, but just one more burnt blade of grass and you’ll have to be trawling the lake for him…,” she said grumpily.

“I owe you one, Addie,” Bishop told her as cheerfully as she could. “I gotta check in with some other folks now – I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Till then, sweetie.”

Bishop cranked to a different channel and gave herself a minute to rest her elbows on her knees, sighing heavily. Sharky and Adelaide were a dangerous combination together…and they were only made worse by a shared interest in John’s obsession with her. God, what a day she was in for tomorrow…

Searching for another distraction, she swapped frequencies for Fall’s End and listened in briefly to their chatter. Bishop felt a smile pull on her face at the mundane news being exchanged and was able to breathe easier knowing they were in a moment of rare inactivity.

“Fall’s End, this is Deputy Bishop,” she spoke into her walkie. “Anyone copy? Over.”

“Deputy!” Jerome’s voice greeted her. “Good to finally hear from you! Had us worried there for a while.”

“Sorry about that,” she said awkwardly, feeling her cheeks heat. “I’ve been…off the grid for a bit.”

“We heard from Sharky not long after,” he said simply. “You’re slippery, Deputy – you have me impressed.”

She barely had time to feel embarrassed before there was a commotion on Jerome’s end and she heard the radio exchange hands.

“Rook!” Hudson’s voice cut in. “Jesus christ, you’re some kind of lucky!”

Bishop felt her heart swell at the sound of her partner’s voice, unable to keep a bright smile from forming on her face.

“Yeah, well, luck runs up eventually,” she said. “And I think I used it all up in that last escape.”

“Must be one a hell of a story,” Hudson mused thoughtfully.

Face burning with mortification, it took Bishop a few moments to think of how to respond.

“Definitely a long one,” she settled on saying carefully. “I won’t bore you with the details now – we’ll be here all day.”

“Another time then,” Hudson agreed.

_Try never._

Hudson couldn’t ever know what had transpired between Bishop and John by that bridge. Bishop dreaded her reaction if she knew that not only had her partner kissed the man she hated most, but she had also initiated it.

“How are things?” she asked, trying to ease the topic elsewhere. “How’re you all holding up?”

“Fall’s End has been fairly quiet,” Hudson replied, tone shifting to be more serious. “There are always Peggies showing up to sniff around the perimeter every so often but they haven’t launched another assault yet. Still…”

“Give ‘em time,” Bishop agreed with a grim nod. “They’ll try something again soon.”

“Maybe not if you’re absent around here,” Hudson said after a moment. “John Seed really does have it out for you.”

Bishop’s eyes squeezed shut in conjunction with the clenching of her hand around the walkie: _please don’t bring it back around to that…_

“I figure I’ll help out over here for a bit before moving on to the Whitetails,” she said. “No word of Pratt but the Marshal has been spotted around – maybe he can be saved.”

“Burke?” Hudson asked with surprise. “I’d almost forgotten about him. Damn bastard – we never should have gone to arrest Joseph in the first place!”

Bishop understood Hudson’s anger – she’d wrestled with those same thoughts since waking up in Dutch’s bunker. Even now, some part of her was still so infuriated with Burke and his bullheadedness that it often made thinking about him difficult.

“We can lodge a formal complaint after we get him back,” Bishop joked lamely.

Hudson’s snort in reply brought a small smile back to her face.

“How are the Ryes doing?” she asked quickly, letting the burning question finally come forward. “How’s the baby?”

“They’re all doing great,” Hudson answered gently. “Everyone’s pitching in so Kim can rest as much as possible. Nick can barely stop talking about little Anna every chance he gets.”

Bishop could only beam in the darkness, feeling her heart swell at the thought of her favorite little family and their happiness. What she wouldn’t give to be able to be there with them, to have her goddaughter back in her arms and relish in the joy and warmth all their presences gave her.

“I’m glad,” she finally replied. “If anyone deserves good fortune, it’s them.”

Hudson merely hummed in agreement and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Bishop stared back up at the clouds moving swiftly overhead and pulled her knees up under Sharky’s sweatshirt with a shiver.

“Is it too soon or in bad taste to start asking what we all plan to do once the cold weather really hits?” she asked warily.

Hudson sighed audibly and Bishop could practically envision her running a hand over her head.

“I don’t know, Rook,” she replied. “I think it’s everyone’s hope to have this shit cleaned up by then…but I know it’s not realistic with the way things are going.”

Bishop felt her gut twist with distress, her thoughts mirrored by Hudson’s own.

“People of Fall’s End…”

Bishop’s heart just about stopped; nothing could have prepared her for _his_ voice to suddenly cut in.

“I hope you’re all doing well,” John Seed crooned. “I’ve so graciously left you to your own devices for some time now…but I didn’t want any of you to fret and think I’d forgotten about you.”

His words were so terribly foreboding…but Bishop could barely think around the memory of him pinning her down in the middle of the road, looking down at her with such soft eyes.

“Your actions in the past have been…disappointing. But fear not! You all still have time to join us in Eden’s Gate. Embrace the Father into your heart, free yourself from your sin…there is nothing to fear from our family. We will embrace you with open arms.”

Bishop didn’t have to be in the Spread Eagle with everyone to else to be able to picture the scene unfolding: the Resistance all spread out along the bar, alarmed and angry at John’s intrusion, looking to each other for guidance and reassurance. She didn’t know whether she felt upset or grateful to not be amongst them as she sat alone in the jail’s courtyard…but John helped her decide that easily enough.

“You all needn’t look further than your own beloved Deputy Bishop – her atonement was just at hand when she was so rudely taken from the loving embrace of the Project.”

Cheeks burning hot, Bishop could only feel her jaw working angrily, torn between embarrassment and shameful longing.

“It’s alright that you took her. Everything still proceeds as planned. Soon enough, she’ll be back here with me…and then you all will have your turns at Confession and Atonement.”

“Fuck you, you fucking asshole!” Hudson’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife. “Spare us all your bullshit!”

“Deputy Hudson…,” John said, voice growing hard. “I’m sorry to say I don’t have much interest in speaking with you at the moment. Your partner, on the other hand…”

Bishop found it hard to breathe around the gasp that wanted to escape from her lips. Even miles away, she swore she could feel Hudson’s shock and anger and meekly ducked down for no one else to see.

“Deputy Bishop…,” John finally addressed her, making her stomach fill with butterflies. “It’s been so good to hear your voice after _all this time_ …”

She couldn’t think of anything to say in response, tongue tied beyond the capacity for speech. Swallowing thickly, she could only keep holding the walkie close to her face with trembling hands and listen on mutely.

“I think you and I are long overdue for a chat,” he continued. “But I’ll spare you any discomfort by speaking on this line…you can reach me at the frequency you last used to contact me…”

That night after his failed ambush at Rye & Sons Aviation…she hoped she still remembered the correct channel number.

_‘Spare you any discomfort’…you asshole._

He’d just opened a can of worms for her and Fall’s End to hash out – and he knew it. Grinding her teeth, she let it anchor her back to reality and glared at the wall in front of her angrily, willing the hot flush across her cheeks away.

“I’ll be waiting…”

The line went dead with an audible click, leaving a tense, uncomfortable silence in its stead. Bishop tried to simply focus on her breathing, which had quickly become erratic with her frayed nerves.

“You contacted him…?”

Bishop felt her heart start to hammer at the almost accusatory tone Hudson gave her.

“I did,” she admitted. “After the attack on Rye & Sons, I got a frequency from that kid who sold us out and I spoke to John.”

“Rook, you’re playing a dangerous game,” Hudson warned.

_I know…_

Leaning back against the cold stone wall behind her, Bishop screwed her eyes shut and let a deep sigh escape from her lips.

“…What now, Deputy?”

She’d almost forgotten Jerome was there too and felt her heart seize up with fright; all the people whose judgment she feared most all listening in together and finally realizing how far she had fallen.

“…now I’m gonna go and hear what he has to say,” she answered quietly.

“That’s a bad idea,” Hudson cut in quickly. “You’re just fueling his obsession with you, Rook.”

“It’s an even worse idea to ignore him and make him angry,” she offered up weakly. “I’ll call back later with what I hear.”

Not giving anyone a chance to argue or chastise her, she swapped to a dead channel and let herself have a moment to take everything in. There were so many thoughts buzzing around in her head, it was all she could do to keep herself from toppling over under the weight of them all.

For the first time in a while, she finally felt like she had her head back on straight…and then John Seed had to come back into the picture and knock everything off balance again. She stared warily at the radio sitting innocently in her grasp and thought long and hard about what sort of conversation awaited her. Her heart competed with the heaviness of dread and tension of excitement that both sought control over it.

* * *

 

John sat staring at the radio on his desk, resisting the urge to rap his fingertips on the wooden surface as he wrestled with his anticipation. Anna would contact him eventually – he knew she wouldn’t want him returning to Fall’s End’s frequency and striking up conversation with any of them instead.

 _Patience is a virtue_ , he tried reminding himself.

It did nothing to make him less antsy, finding it increasingly difficult to remain still and seated in his chair. The evening had been fairly dull and uneventful until one of his men had come rushing in to inform him they had managed to pin down Fall’s End’s new frequency. His attention was piqued the moment he realized it was more than just that – he could hardly contain his delight when the man finally got around to mentioning that the Junior Deputy was in the midst of broadcasting to them.

There was a new spark in his chest as he intercepted their conversation and got to hear Anna’s voice for the first time in days. She sounded tired and subdued but no worse for wear…meaning Faith hadn’t tightened her grasp on her just yet.

He’d take every chance he could get to lure Anna back to Holland Valley; she wouldn’t be safe until she was back in his hands. Faith could destroy her mind with Bliss…and Jacob…

Trying not to shudder at the thought, he glared at the radio before him impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest and letting his fingers drum over his biceps. If Anna would stop being so willfully stubborn, he could end this tonight; but she wouldn’t. She had too much fire in her soul to lay down arms just because he asked nicely…he could try, and he would, but he knew it would be fruitless without twisting her arm a little.

The radio crackled to life for a moment and he snatched it off the wooden surface.

“John?” Anna’s voice came through hesitantly.

“Anna,” he answered with a smile. “How are you?”

“…I’ve been better,” she replied after a pause.

“That’s a shame,” he said. “If only you hadn’t scampered off the last time we were face to face.”

The silence from her end was telling and he could practically feel her getting flustered; he grinned wickedly to himself, relishing in her sudden bashfulness while knowing that he alone could get such a reaction from her.

“I hope you didn’t get singed there,” she finally replied, voice taut. “Be a shame to mess up your face, that’s the one thing you really have going for you.”

Closing his eyes, he hummed in amusement to himself, not at all affected by her attempt to rile him up. He’d learned quickly that was a choice defense mechanism for her: biting sarcasm and cruel humor to combat anything that made her feel uncomfortable or vulnerable.

“That was a dirty trick you pulled,” he said after a moment. “I will admit I entirely underestimated you. My mistake, I won’t do it again.”

“I wasn’t sure if that pump would take one shot to destroy,” Anna said. “That could have changed-”

“I wasn’t talking about the gas station,” he cut in.

Silence followed for a brief moment.

“Well…it’s as you said before: all’s fair in love and war,” she finally replied, sounding bashful.

“We’re alone on this channel, Anna,” he said cheekily, putting his feet up on the desk as he leaned back in his chair. “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

“Who says I’m pretending I didn’t?” she shot back boldly.

John felt his heart swell in his chest; Anna’s relapse into silence was a clear sign she was rethinking making such a claim. Before she considered bolting, he shifted tactics.

“You haunt me, Anna,” he told her truthfully. “Every waking moment I’m left thinking about you, wondering where you are and when I’ll finally have you here again.”

“…you probably want to hear that I feel the same,” she answered slowly. “But I haven’t had much time to think about anything…I can barely keep my thoughts straight with all the-”

She cut herself off, seemingly thinking better of what she wanted to say; but she’d already said enough. John felt his eyes narrow angrily at the thought of Faith and her Bliss induced hallucinations and felt the flames of wild, unbridled jealousy kindle in his heart.

“Here in Holland Valley, we don’t utilize Bliss the same way Faith does,” he reminded her. “Come back and clear your head.”

“I could just head up to the Whitetails if I wanted clean air, couldn’t I?” she shot back quickly, sounding pleased with herself.

“Do not-!” he almost demanded before catching himself; taking a steadying breath, he reined himself back in. “Jacob and Faith will not show you leniency as I have, Anna. They don’t care about you – not like I do.”

“Oh, but Faith’s been nothing but sweetness and coercion,” Anna said dryly, her tone growing hard. “It would seem she likes me too.”

“It’s all an act,” John warned sharply. “Don’t trust her.”

There was a long pause that followed, growing tenser by the second.

“I’m surprised you’d say that,” Anna finally said slowly, as if testing the waters. “She’s your sister, isn’t she?”

John felt a twinge of remorse course through him. She was right, he shouldn’t have said that. His personal feelings toward Faith and her position in their family aside, by undermining her he was - in a sense – also undermining Joseph. It pained part of him to do anything that would earn Joseph’s disapproval…but if it meant securing Anna and keeping her out of Faith’s hands, he could stomach being a bit of an insurgent. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d broken Joseph’s trust or any of the Project’s rules before…

“You can see the best and worst in your own family,” he supplied carefully. “I want you to be prepared for it all…it’s my desire to see you become one of us.”

“What, become Anna Seed?” she practically scoffed.

He barely heard the derision in her tone – all he could think of was how lovely that name sounded and felt excitement coursing through him.

“You belong with us, Anna,” he pushed. “With _me_.”

She was silent again and he wondered just what was going through her head in that moment. Did she feel the same pull that he did? What he felt was foreign and exciting all the same; he’d never experienced anything like it before. He knew she felt something similar, try as she might to deny it. God had made them for each other, of that he was certain. Eventually, they’d be together…but he’d prefer sooner rather than later.

“No one will ever understand you the way I do, Anna,” he told her softly. “Come back to me.”

“What would you expect from me, John?” she finally asked quietly. “I’m no Peggie – I’ll never turn on my friends. Everything I believe and do goes against everything your Project stands for...”  
“You still don’t understand what we’re trying to do yet,” he insisted, putting his feet down to lean forward on the desk. “Let me show you what all of this is for and I know you’ll change your mind.”

“If only it was that simple,” she sighed heavily, sounding tired.

“It can be,” he assured her. “Just stop resisting the inevitable.”

He felt the palpable shift in her energy and recognized his error too late.

“Stop fighting?” she scoffed. “Please. You know that’ll never happen.”

“Don’t start that, Anna,” he said quickly. “You know I’m trying to save you.”

“Yeah?” she demanded angrily. “Well maybe I don’t want saving, you ever consider this? You think this world is gonna end? Fine – let it. I’ll watch the sunset on that final day and go with it.”

“You’re being willfully stubborn,” John sighed, feeling his own anger mounting. “This only ends one way and we both know it.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” she replied quickly. “One I’m willing to take on.”

“I don’t want to fight you, Anna,” he said, his hand forming into a fist atop the table’s surface. “But don’t think I won’t do what needs to be done…”

“Yeah? You want to go another round?” she challenged instantly.

The image of her laid out beneath him flashed through his mind again and he felt a ripple of desire course through him. He licked his lips and leaned closer to the radio to speak.

“Do you promise a repeat of our last encounter?” he asked huskily.

There was hesitation in her silence and he waited eagerly for her response.

“Right down to every last detail?” she challenged, though she sounded decidedly less aggressive.

He smiled to himself, feeling satisfaction coursing through his veins.

“That same trick won’t work a second time,” he assured her. “I can think of a better ending to replace it with…”

“…yeah?”she asked almost breathlessly.

Regaling her fully with the scenario he had in mind excited him beyond belief; fate, however, seemed destined to keep him from soaring too high that night. There was commotion on Anna’s end of the line, the sound of someone calling to her in the distance.

“Rook? You out here?” he heard a vaguely familiar voice breaking through.

“S-sir!” Anna quickly answered, pulling away from her radio. “One moment!”

John’s grip tightened on the radio reflexively, as if that could somehow physically keep Anna tethered to the line and prevent her from bolting.

“Anna-,” he tried quickly to lasso her back in.

“Good night!”

The farewell was rushed out just before he heard the audible click of her leaving the channel and he was left alone with silence. A heavy sigh ripped from his throat before he could banish it and he leaned back in his chair in frustration, letting the walkie talkie clatter against the desk noisily. Every time he gained ground with Anna, someone always managed to make her retreat and erase all his hard work. Whether it was the people of Fall’s End or the people holding down the Hope County Jail - which he was certain now she was taking sanctuary in, having heard the Sheriff just moments before - didn’t matter. The Resistance was as much a hindrance to the Project’s ambitions as it was to his own.

He needed Anna back with him to make any ground. Get her away from those poisonous minds filling her ears with guilt and woe to make her bow to their demands…if he could shut her away from the rest of the world, it would be simple. She’d be forced to understand, to see: this was God’s plan. Joseph’s visions would come to fruition and only by accepting the Project could she be saved.

 _She doesn’t even need to accept the whole Project_ , John thought to himself. _She just needs to accept me!_

It was selfish and sinful – Joseph would disapprove of such a line of thinking – but John couldn’t be bothered to feel shame. He needed Anna, body and soul; no one else would understand his pain, all that he had suffered and endured. Joseph had been enough for so long…but now that he had found Anna, he wouldn’t be satisfied until she was back at his side, prepared to face the future together.

He sat and pondered his predicament for some time, finger drawing across the top of his lip thoughtfully. The radio sat where he’d dropped it on the glossy surface of the desk; he considered it for a moment before grasping it back in his hand.

Push too hard and she would only pull away…but starting small could get her to eventually push back. And then he’d have his chance to grab her by the wrists and not let her slip away again. The gears in his head were turning furiously as he spoke into his walkie, summoning his men for a twilight meeting.

_Sweet dreams, Anna…_

* * *

 

 

“I wish I could feel you tonight  
Little one you're so far away I want to reach out   
And touch your heart   
Yeah like they do in those things on TV  
I love you please love me, I'm not so bad   
And I love you so

I got a room at the top of the world tonight   
I got a room at the top of the world tonight   
I got a room at the top of the world tonight   
And I ain't comin' down, no   
I ain't comin' down   
I ain't comin' down"

 

_ Room at the Top, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John and Anna finally interacting again! Ah, what a joy writing those scenes are <3 They're still separated for now but don't fear - eventually they'll be face to face again. I won't preach patience on just when that happens because I am notoriously impatient, lmao.  
> Thank you so much for reading! Hope you've enjoyed <3


	3. Chapter 3

The radios before him crackled to life every few seconds, filled with shouting and gunfire from both. John sat and stared at them calmly, listening to the reports flowing in from either side of the conflict.

“Sinners up on the scaffolding-!”

“PEGGIES COMING FROM THE NORTH! NEED-”

“We’ve got the last of ‘em cornered! Send in the trucks to-”

“-AUTO SHOP HAS FALLEN! NEED BACKUP, ASAP-”

Smiling to himself, John reached for the radio set on the Resistance’s frequency at US Auto and swapped it to Copperhead Rail Yard’s and listened to its silence in amusement. They had no idea what was to come – just made victory all that much sweeter.

Not for the first time, he found himself marveling at how Anna Bishop had managed to swipe those outposts from his hands in the first place. The reports always came in detailing her as a lone agent, save for her constant canine companion. How did she do it? Against scores of his men – many of whom had been trained by Jacob, no less – she always came out on top. He almost wouldn't have believed she was capable of such feats...had he not seen the security footage with his own eyes of her creeping onto his property and into his hangar undetected to steal back Nick Rye's plane single-handedly.

She was such an unassuming thing from a distance: short, light, and dainty. But he’d come to know her better – her personality alone showed the strength hidden within. Though it shouldn’t be so surprising her physical prowess matched her inner strength when she’d easily thrown him aside like he was no more than a sack of potatoes that day by the Henbane…

What would he have to do with her once he caught her again? She’d be like a caged animal, ready to strike at the first slip up – much like she’d proven down in his bunker against that unfortunately sinful convert. He needed time enough to show her what the Project was after, what it really meant to serve the Father and the need to prepare for the Collapse. If only she knew the terrible truth of the future that lay ahead… she’d have to understand any other path only ensured her destruction.

Anna was smart…but she was also remarkably stubborn. It would take more than just a sermon from Joseph to get her to come around. Faith couldn’t ever convert her: Joseph and Faith might be blind to it but John could see clearly that she would never bend to the Seed sister’s manipulations. He knew he could convince her – they held a connection now that no one else would ever understand. Only he could accomplish this task.

But he still had to get her back to the valley and into his arms to do it. She was somewhere deep in Henbane territory by now and he just had to cast bait far enough out to her to attract her attention before luring her in. He’d never been particularly talented – or interested, frankly – in fishing, but he could appreciate the technique all the same.

His hand reached for Anna’s father’s badge and held it up to the light, admiring the semi-tarnished circle in the center once more. The feedback from the Project’s raiding party frequency heralded the reclamation of US Auto from Resistance forces: those stationed there were either killed or taken into custody. There would be many more baptisms and confessions to attend to in the next coming days…but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything beyond the explicit order to allow at least one Resistance fighter to radio in for help and another to escape and hoped his men had followed through with such a command. Allow Fall’s End to know that another of their precious strongholds was lost and let them wallow in their defeat. Have them realize just how weak they were without their beloved Junior Deputy around to carry their weight…

Sooner or later, they’d reach out to her – he could only hope they begged her to come back and assist them. Nothing would speed Anna back faster, he knew; and when she was finally back in his domain…he’d be waiting for her.

The radio tuned into Copperhead Railyard’s frequency suddenly became active, screams and gunfire echoing out from the transmitter.

“- RAILYARD TO FALL’S END, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! SEND BACKUP ASSISTANCE IMMEDIATELY-”

There was a guttural scream of someone being shot down and John felt triumph welling in his chest again. Propping his elbow up to rest his chin on a palm, he continued inspecting the badge in his other hand reverently as he listened to the chorus of Resistance voices rising in panic in the face of their downfall. If only they had an ace up their sleeve to show up and turn the tides in their favor…

 _Soon…_ , he reminded himself excitedly, thumb circling the badge’s shiny surface. _Soon…_

* * *

 

Setting off in the morning from the prison was surprisingly hard to do. When Hannah and Laura found out Bishop was leaving so soon after arriving, they swarmed her and demanded she return safely soon. She had to repeatedly assure them she would be back within a week at least and that she would make time to spend with them then. There were several crushing hugs she was subjected to and some emotional tears on Hannah’s part before she was able to extract herself and slip away, embarrassed but feeling warm inside.

On her way out the front gate, she passed a patrol squad rolling up and watched them speed by. The middle truck stopped short and she watched as a tall woman with jet black hair leapt out and headed straight for her.

“Knew they couldn’t keep you down for long,” Trish greeted her, eyes alight. “Figured you’d be rolling through here at some point.”

They took each other’s hands in a firm grasp and Bishop couldn’t help but smile at her.

“You arrived just in time to see me off,” she said wryly. “I wonder if you’re purposefully trying to make our meetings brief at this point.”

“Hey, you were the one to cut our first one short,” Trish reminded her with a sharp smile. “Gotta say, the memory of you pounding that shit head’s face in helps on the really hard days.”

“I aim to please,” Bishop said with a lopsided grin.

Trish wasn’t one for much idle chatter and her squad came to collect her just as she was getting antsy. It suited Bishop just fine, merely glad to have seen her alive and well even for a brief moment before heading off on her own. She waved to their retreating forms before sauntering down the asphalt to the main road, a new spring in her step.

The trek to Drubman Marina would be a long one but Bishop felt confident she could manage. There were plenty of abandoned cars between the jail and the marina – it would take her little effort to hotwire one and drive it straight through the heart of Henbane territory to her destination.

For the time being, she remained on foot, eyes and ears open for any signs of trouble. Her radio was cranked to an open channel that (mercifully) stayed silent as she traversed the wilderness alone. A pang of sadness struck her as she hit the second hour or so of her journey and realized how lonely it was being out here all alone. It’d been so long since she’d truly been by herself – Boomer had been by her side since the very first day and there was usually someone else tagging along for the ride. Sharky was most often glued to her hip, but there was always Grace, Nick, Jess, Hurk, and Adelaide as well, each guiding her through their home turfs and offering a hand in throwing a wrench in the cult’s works.

She’d venture to say it was the first time she’d been by herself since her stay down in that bunker …but John had been a constant companion in that period so she hadn’t truly been alone. Even though she knew better, she couldn’t help but miss him too; she wondered what he was up to these days, aside from frequent radio transmissions trying to tempt her back. With the way things were going thus far in the Henbane, it was becoming wholly difficult not to be swayed and find herself stepping back over the border into Holland Valley…

There was a light crackle from the radio on her hip that had Bishop reaching for it, anticipating a call from Dutch or the Sheriff and eager for a distraction. She’d barely had it unclipped from her belt before an engine revved dangerously close. Dropping her knees into a crouch, she swapped channels to ward off the noise of the walkie before unholstering her pistol and looking around for the approaching vehicle.

It was coming over the hill at a distance and she prayed it continued its trek down the road instead of seeing her off of the shoulder. There wasn’t much in terms of cover nearby: only a few scant trees a couple hundred feet back and a thick field of Bliss flowers off to her left that she did _not_ want to utilize.

Tracey and the Sheriff had both warned her as much – the more time spent around Bliss, the worse its effects became. They spoke of a total detachment from reality that unnerved Bishop, who felt like she was already losing her grips on it from what little she’d already seen and been exposed to.

 _Please keep going_ , she hoped. _You don’t know I’m here…_

It seemed luck was on her side; she felt a swell of relief as the truck ambled past and let her pistol drop towards the ground. Then suddenly its brake lights kicked on and the Peggie in the flatbed seemed to be staring in her direction. Bishop dropped lower, practically on all fours as she warily watched the truck backing up and turning to head in her direction.

_Shit!_

Did they know? They had to know – otherwise this was an incredibly cruel case of circumstance. Left with no choice, Bishop scrambled into the thick of the flowers off to the side, tucking and rolling to face back out towards the truck with her pistol aimed high.

She willed her vision to remain steady, even as the haziness instantly flooded into her head. The whispers floating past her ears forced the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end but she forced herself to pay attention solely to the pickup circling the sea of flowers.

The Peggie in the truck bed peered out, swiveling from one side to the other to inspect the surrounding area. Bishop willed him not to see her amidst the sea of green and white, thankful for Sharky’s sweatshirt offering at least some degree of camouflage.

She watched intently as the truck circled, fingering the safety of her Beretta off and taking aim. After one more pass, the Peggie in the bed finally called something to the driver and smacked the side of the truck; Bishop observed with relief as the vehicle finally veered back towards the road, dirt and grass spewing up under its tires. She made sure to wait several heartbeats after its disappearance to make sure it was gone for good before making a move out of cover.

Stumbling out of the flowers, Bishop inhaled the fresh air deeply, trying to steady her shaking legs. She couldn’t remember which way she had been headed before the truck showed up and slowly pivoted in place to re-center her thoughts. Nothing looked familiar, she realized with dread as she slowly ambled closer to the road before realizing that wasn’t such a smart idea and trudging back the way she came.

Something was wrong. Her head was still feeling heavy and her vision was still shaky and distorted; normally it just took some time and distance from the flowers to make the sensation disappear. But if anything…it felt like it was getting stronger.

Dropping to a knee before her legs gave out, Bishop held herself up with one hand and brought the other up to hold her face, trying desperately to ignore the spinning of the world around her.

“Damn…it…..” she could hear herself saying before slumping forward.

She was unconscious before she even connected with the ground.

* * *

 

_“-puty!”_

Bishop groaned softly, trying to force her eyes open. Her entire head felt like lead, far too heavy to lift; she dropped it back down after several moments of struggling.

“ _Deputy Bishop-!”_

She knew that voice…the one calling out to her through the haze she still lay submerged in; her brain tried grasping onto the sound and using it as a tether to pull her out of the fog.

_“Anna!”_

“John…,” she said softly, feeling some of her awareness return to her.

“Are you dreaming about my brother, Deputy?”

Bishop finally forced her eyes open, despite how her eyelids protested. She could barely see through the glimmering sparkles flitting through her vision and the greenish hue the air itself seemed to have taken on. Eyes squinting at the knee beneath her cheek, she forced her gaze up to look into Faith’s face and found the other woman smiling down at her.

“It’s okay, you can tell me,” Faith said teasingly.

Bishop could only blink at her stupidly before looking outwards and trying to take stock of where she was. Everything looked uniform in the ethereal plane that Faith claimed as her own – rich green grass swaying in a gentle breeze, the cloudless yet hazy sky motionless overhead, the swarm of brilliant blue butterflies that seemed to dance across her skin and attach to her clothes…

“John?” she tried again, trying to raise her head from where it was pillowed in Faith’s lap.

Steady hands kept her from rising and forced her to lie back down; she easily acquiesced, feeling just how tired she was.

“He’s not here,” Faith told her gently. “Aren’t you happier here with me instead?”

_No._

Her mind supplied that surprisingly sharply…but Bishop couldn’t bring herself to speak such cruelty upon Faith. She hadn’t done or said anything malicious to merit such a response. And her hands were now weaving through her hair as she softly petted her - Bishop was all but putty in her hands.

“Do you like John?” Faith asked Bishop as she nestled back against her legs comfortably.

“Yes,” Bishop answered truthfully, trying to keep her eyelids from slipping shut as her head rocked gently with the motion of Faith’s hands.

She felt Faith’s fingers snake down the length of her braid to the frayed hair tie barely holding it in place. It disappeared in moments and Bishop felt each strand of her braid unwound with patience. For a second, she felt a twinge of anger, remembering when Hudson had taken the time to form that plait for her the last time they were together in Fall’s End. Just as quickly, the fury was snuffed out and replaced with acceptance, relishing in the loving touch Faith bestowed upon her as she finger combed her long mane out.

“Do you love him?” Faith pressed after a moment.

Bishop paused to consider such a question.

“I…I don’t know,” she forced out finally.

“Hmm,” Faith merely responded, sounding pleased. “He loves you.”

Even through her current stupor, Bishop still felt her heart flutter in her chest.

“He does…?” she asked, trying to look up at Faith before being forced to lower her head again.

“He thinks he does,” Faith offered up as she continued stroking Bishop’s hair. “I don’t know if he’s capable of romantic love. Or even platonic love for anyone other than his brothers.”

There was no hint of bitterness in her voice – it seemed a simple enough observation. And yet Bishop vaguely felt there was something more there.

“Not even for you?” she slurred out, brow furrowing at the sound of her own voice.

Faith smiled down at her as she plucked Bliss flowers from the grass surrounding them and started threading them together.

“He wants you to come back to him,” Faith continued as if Bishop had never even spoken. “So he can free you of your sin. He’ll cut off that lovely tattoo on your chest, force you back down in his bunker, and keep you hidden away from everyone else.”

Looking down at her almost coyly, Faith took in the look of muted horror that was slowly dawning on Bishop’s face.

“Do you want that?”

“No,” Bishop answered after a moment, feeling ill.

There was no lie in anything Faith had just said – Bishop knew that was John’s end goal. Still, it was disconcerting to be reminded of it when he had been trying to speak to her in honeyed tones just the night before. Maybe it was better to be retold the uncomfortable truth…it helped reinforce that no matter what John said to try and persuade her back to Holland Valley, what awaited her there was both horrific and terrifying.

Faith hummed happily to herself as Bishop dwelled miserably in her own increasingly muddled thoughts. The flowers in Faith’s hands had finished being woven together into a crown and she beamed as she placed it upon Bishop’s head. The weight of them seemed immense for a moment before a sudden calmness overtook her that left her sighing with contentment.

“Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” Faith asked as she returned to petting Bishop’s hair. “There’s no fear, no pain…you’ll be happy.”

Bishop wanted to argue with her but found she lacked the resolve; all she could focus on was the feeling of the other woman’s hands in her hair. If she let her imagination wander, she could almost picture her mother sitting there instead, fondly stroking her hair on the couch at home before bed. The memory of such an instance filled Bishop’s heart with unspeakable yearning and grief; she tried forcing her mind elsewhere and found the next memory to resurface was from deep in the bunker she so dreaded returning to. But it didn’t fill her with panic - only longing as she recalled the look on John’s face when he had thread his fingers through her hair and gently caressed her face.

She grasped hold of that memory as she let her eyelids slip shut, the sound of Faith’s melodic voice singing some wordless tune filling her ears as she drifted away from it all.

* * *

 

Fingers drumming impatiently across the table before him, John tried to keep his focus on the reports laid out in front of him. He was failing miserably, eyes darting to the radio sitting off to the side and willing it to crackle to life.

It had been hours since his men had taken back some of the Resistance strongholds Anna herself had liberated weeks prior. Fall’s End knew of their losses and had spread the news to their allies, as his latest informant had so generously told him. But they had yet to make contact with the Junior Deputy still somewhere across the Henbane, unable to pin her down on any line; even the tiresome Dutch Roosevelt hadn’t been able to get ahold of her, and he was the one in almost constant communication with her.

It must not have caused any real worry in Jerome or Mary May or any of their compatriots, who probably assumed she was just busy and unable to take a call; it caused a knot of worry to form in John’s gut, however, that sat heavily with him. He knew Anna better than that– she would have contacted somebody herself by now or at the very least had a channel open to be reached on by Dutch.

No, something was wrong…it had to be. He’d tried reaching out to her himself just over an hour ago with no success. There was very little else he could do if she was preoccupied with something else – he had his own business to attend to and reminded himself once more of the pile of work left unattended before him.

His eyes turned back towards the estimates in his hands and found himself re-reading the same line for at least an eighth time. Frustrated, he tossed the paper aside and reached for the walkie talkie that held all of his focus.

“Deputy?” he spoke into the transceiver.

No response. His brow furrowed as his mind went wild with different scenarios, none of them reassuring.

“Anna, are you there?”

“Hello, John.”

His blood ran cold as he recognized the voice on the other end of the line – it did not belong to his deputy, but it was familiar all the same.

“Faith,” he offered up simply, voice growing taut.

“You seem quite determined to get ahold of the Deputy,” Faith continued pleasantly. “She’s resting at the moment - you’ll have to try again later.”

Teeth grinding together, he worked hard to control his breathing as he raged within. _He knew it, Faith had her the whole time!_

“Is that so?” he said as calmly as he could.

“You’re not trying to tempt her back to Holland Valley, are you?” she asked.  “I’m handling her just fine on my own.”

To the untrained ear, her voice didn’t contain anything but gentle sweetness…but it was impossible for him to miss the cruel mocking undertone she was currently brandishing at him. It took great self-control not to rise to her bait as he exhaled sharply.

“Joseph gave me the responsibility of bringing her into the Project,” he finally answered, when he was certain he wouldn’t erupt. “I’m just continuing my duties to the Father.”

“You needn’t worry about that anymore,” Faith told him cheerfully. “She’s content here with me.”

The twin flames of anger and jealousy licked at John’s heart and he felt his hand squeezing dangerously around the radio in its grasp.

“If only you could have seen her take the Leap,” his sister told him happily. “You’d have been so proud of her. She’s so close to accepting the word of the Father fully into her heart…to joining our family.”

She was so smug – if only she knew just how badly her schemes would backfire on her. John almost had half a mind to taunt her with what he knew of _his_ deputy’s rage and stubbornness but held his tongue, not wanting to give her any ideas about escalating her tactics.

“It won’t be long now,” she continued. “Just a few more trips into the Bliss and she’ll be ready to serve Joseph as one of his devoted.”

“Anna Bishop is more useful to the Project and the Father as a functional human being – _not_ twisted into one of your Angels,” John finally spat at her.

“The Angels have their purpose,” Faith reminded him. “If the Deputy chooses to accept my blessings, there’s no need to fear her transformation.”

She struck so viciously at the heart of John’s fears: Anna would never willingly submit to Faith’s methods. He knew it to be true even if Faith still naively held confidence she could persuade the deputy into joining her in the Bliss.

“Leave Anna to me, John,” Faith continued. “You’ll be able to see her again once I’ve convinced her to join us.”

“Bishop,” John insisted fiercely. “She doesn’t like being called Anna.”

For the first time in their conversation, Faith went silent.

“And yet you call her Anna…,” she noted.

“She gave me permission to.”

That was a blatant lie…but Faith didn’t know that. Anna had eventually stopped trying to get him to call her Bishop and just let him have his way – there was no verbal consent but the fact that she no longer corrected him meant she allowed it. It was unique to their interactions: it was _special._ He delighted in being able to call her something no one else could – and he’d be damned if Faith would try and be the one to change that.

“Hmm,” Faith finally replied, sounding thoughtful. “Well, perhaps she’ll give me permission too…we’ve become close in these last few days.”

 _She’s lying – she’s just saying this to rile you up_ , he reminded himself.

Still, it did little to ease the tension that was building up in his shoulders as he hunched over the table, fingers crunching a stack of papers nearby.

“Doubtful,” he heard himself say spitefully.

“We’ll just see then, won’t we?”

Faith didn’t give him a chance to respond; she let the line audibly click to announce her departure from the conversation, leaving John alone to stew in anger.

She had the upper hand and she knew it; John could do nothing except sit and wait to hear what happened next. He let his hand sweep the table’s surface clean, papers scattering to the wind as he slammed his fist onto the wood.

There was nothing he hated more than being outmaneuvered in his own game. The players were just supposed to be him and Anna…Faith had overturned the entire board by joining in. Glaring at the mess he had created, he dropped unceremoniously back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, fingers drumming on his biceps.

He found himself thinking back on his years working as an associate in Atlanta. If there was one thing he had prided himself on, it was finding loopholes and leverage no one else could think to exploit and turning a case on its head. Some such option had to exist here too…he just had to find it and seize it while he still had a chance.

Using Anna’s volatile temper was still the best course of action he had; if he could just get her to come running back to the valley, he wouldn’t even need to worry about Faith and her schemes any longer. But getting her across the Henbane was still the largest obstacle he faced…

He’d covertly extended his hand beyond the law from time to time as a lawyer; he’d never been caught doing so and had made sure it remained as such. Working in the shadows didn’t seem feasible now and he contemplated the risks inherent in such actions that bordered on rebellion.

There was no fear of Faith’s anger should he overstep his bounds…but the thought of Joseph’s disapproval loomed large in the back of his mind. His brother’s opinion meant the world to him…even if he did bend and break his rules now and then, he tried his best to live up to his expectations and please him.

Joseph would be upset by anything John did in the Henbane – there was no avoiding that grim conclusion. It only raised another question in his mind: just how far was he willing to go for Anna Bishop…?

* * *

 

Something wet was washing over her.

Struggling to open her eyes, Bishop instantly squeezed them shut to avoid the tongue scraping across her face happily.

“B-Boomer?” she asked, wheezing as pressure was applied to her chest by heavy paws.

Boomer’s high pitched whine was joyous as he pressed into her, tail wagging a mile a minute. Bishop could only dig her fingers into his fur and let the sensation of his facewash help bring her back into a more alert state. When she’d had enough, she gently pushed him back as she forced herself to sit up.

“Alright, alright,” she told him as she mussed with his ears affectionately.

Glancing around, she tried ignoring the heavy sparkle of Bliss still in her vision.

“Sharky?” she called out dubiously, wincing at how her voice echoed in her ears. “You there?”

She was met with no response. Turning to look back at the dog sitting before her, she scrutinized him heavily.

“Did you come find me on your own?” she asked.

Boomer’s tail merely wagged harder in response, his paws tapping the ground excitedly as he restrained himself from leaping on her again. She could only stare at him wonder and shake her head at him fondly.

“You’re something else,” she told him.

_Man’s best friend is right. What a dog._

Glancing around, she took stock of her surroundings as best as she could. Her radio sat several feet away in the grass, as did Nick’s hat, appearing to have been tossed aside almost carelessly. Bishop reached up to run a hand through her hair and started when her fingers scraped against soft petals. She grasped a full flower in her hand and tried pulling it forward to inspect, blanching at the circlet of Bliss flowers that she held in her grasp instead.

Mind cycling back through her foggy memories frantically, she found and help the image of Faith sitting with her and undoing her braid, before threading a chain of flowers together and placing it upon her head.

“That’s…impossible,” she said aloud.

The Bliss flowers in her hands shook; at first, she thought it was still the Bliss’s grip on her distorting her vision…but she quickly realized it was her hands that were shaking instead. Raising the crown over her shoulder, she hurled it as far as she could down the grassy hill. She furiously wiped at her eyes, trying to ignore the shiver racing up and down her spine as her long, loose hair blew around her in the light breeze.

What was real anymore? She was so certain these appearances of Faith were mere hallucinations…but then how did she explain the flower crown? How did she explain Faith’s seeming omnipotent knowledge of things that Bishop was saying and doing all alone out in the heart of Henbane territory?

Unnerved, she snatched Nick’s hat from off the ground and jammed it down on top of her head, whipping her hair over shoulder and down her back with a single smack of her hand. Boomer merely tilted his head curiously at her actions, watching her as she reached for her walkie and stared at it harshly.

It was turned off – something she very rarely did while out alone. She couldn’t remember being the one to power it down and wondered if she even had before cranking the power dial on and listening to the silence on the other end. Her fingers clicked on the transmitter several times experimentally, letting it audibly crackle.

“Anna?”

She blinked in surprise, heart leaping.

“John?” she replied quietly.

“Are you alright?”

Bishop took a moment to consider his words; he seemed to realize she was in a bad spot and she knew she should probably be more concerned about his inside knowledge of the situation. Instead, she could only laugh humorlessly.

“I think I’m going insane,” she told him frankly. “I’m losing my goddamn mind.”

 “Anna-” he tried to speak again.

“I’m seeing and hearing your sister everywhere,” she cut him off quickly. “In places she can’t possibly be…I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

She couldn’t divulge such fears to the Sheriff or Dutch or even Sharky…there was some stubborn, scared part of her that didn’t dare allow such vulnerability to be shared. But she’d already told John all her secrets once before – it was different with him. He was the only person she knew she could willingly be so open with.

“Anna, listen to me,” John’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Keep away from the Bliss. Stay away from Faith.”

“I would if I could,” she replied. “But she’s _everywhere_. And I can’t seem to stop myself from going to her.”

“Faith will break your mind if you let her in – do not give her the chance,” he warned her seriously. “Come back to the valley…come back to me.”

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she struggled to come up with a response.

“I’m nowhere near Holland Valley,” she supplied weakly.

“Tell me where you are and I’ll come get you.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at that.

“You would, wouldn’t you? Come straight out here and pick me up,” she said, “Whisk me away from all… _this_.”

The memory of that day by Lorna’s Truck Stop resurfaced, however, and she felt her brow furrow.

“But you’re not allowed to come into Faith’s territory and interfere, are you?” she asked. “Is that why you didn’t follow me that day?”

John’s silence was very telling.

“Tell me where you are and what happens afterwards can stay between you and me,” he said shrewdly.

A smile pulled at her lips as she shook her head.

“That sounds dangerously close to insurgency,” she teased, rubbing her head and willing some of the wooziness away.

“I’m only trying to keep you safe.”

She considered that for a moment, trying not to let the butterflies in her stomach overwhelm her.

“Y’know,” she finally said, switching gears. “I did a lot of illegal and illicit things as a teenager and young adult that I’ve never been too proud of…but not once did I ever dabble in drugs. I’ve been clean my whole life - up until I show up here and people start drugging me up ever chance they get. It’s fucking bullshit.”

John went quiet and she felt a flicker of relief at steering the conversation out of dangerous territory.

“Nothing to say?” she goaded gently. “Cause you’ve been one of the ones to do it…”

“I have the distinct feeling anything I say will be used against me later,” he supplied warily.

She chuckled lightly, looking over at Boomer scenting the air.

“Smart man,” she teased.

With a groan, she forced herself up and staggered to her feet.

“Where are you headed?” John asked casually.

“Going to see-” she started before catching herself.

Heart thumping wildly in her chest, she realized just how close she’d come to blurting out her travel plans to him. The Bliss was to blame in part, for sure…but it also came down to how readily she was willing to share with John. It was a strange sensation after so many years of containing every single thought and emotion within herself and never allowing anyone to see her true self.   

“Yes…?” he prompted encouragingly.

Scoffing lightly, she shook her head to rid more of the fuzziness away.

“Well, who knows if I’ll even get there at all,” she said grumpily. “Manage to get sidetracked just about every other minute…”

“Don’t let Faith get to you again,” he warned darkly and she felt a shiver race up and down her spine.

“I’ll do my best,” she assured him. “For now, I’m gonna find a place to sober up.”

“Anna-”

Boomer’s growl instantly grabbed her attention and she followed the dog’s gaze out towards the road the sound of an automobile engine rattling closer.

“We’ll talk later,” she cut John off quickly.

“Wait-”

She swapped channels to silence his voice, focus shifting fully to the vehicle approaching. Crouching beside Boomer, she waited in tense anticipation for it to pass.

It didn’t seem the Peggies within knew she was there, fortunately. She watched as they pulled off on the shoulder and exited the vehicle, ambling back towards the pickup bed to grab some gear stowed within. With a soft whistle to Boomer, Bishop took off running, aiming as steadily as she could through the remnants of the Bliss muddling her mind.

Her Beretta made quick work of the one, sending him crumpling straight to the dirty asphalt soundlessly; the other became distracted by the echo of the gunshot and fell to Boomer while he was preoccupied with finding her location. She didn’t bother patting either of the bodies down for ammo or supplies; her mind was wholly focused on putting as much distance between this place and herself as soon as possible. Faith probably wouldn’t return here so quickly…but she’d rather not chance it.

Ushering Boomer into the truck first, Bishop clambered in after him and revved the engine.

“ _Oh, John! Bold and Brav_ e!”

Bishop could only stare tiredly at the radio belting out the tune before throwing the truck in gear and peeling out onto the road. She and Boomer rode in silence for a minute, her eyes darting about to make sure there were no further unpleasant surprises waiting for them up ahead.

“ _Oh John…keep us safe_ …,” she found herself singing under her breath as she fumbled in the glove compartment for a map.

* * *

 

Bishop thought to park the truck a ways back from the marina and walk the rest of the way. It only occurred to her a few miles from her destination that speeding through the front gate without warning in a Peggie truck might not go over so well…

As she ambled after Boomer up the grassy hill that overlooked the marina, she heard the soft familiar singing of Faith and felt her hair stand on end. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the Seed sister strolling along casually not far behind, hands out to either side as she danced her way closer.

“The people down there aren’t like you,” Faith said with a sad smile. “They’re too full of greed and sin and depravity…they’ll only use you and then discard you when they’ve had their fill of you.”

Bishop didn’t miss the biting tone Faith’s voice took towards the end of that sentence but found she could only focus on the hollow feeling that quickly descended into the pit of her stomach. Such a deep rooted fear…and Faith managed to pick up on it so easily. Bishop wanted to tell her she was wrong, that Sharky and Adelaide would never do that to her…but she’d been wrong before about whom to put her trust in. Numerous times…

“You don’t belong with them,” Faith continued. “You belong with _us…_ walk the Path, Anna. Come join us in Eden.”

Swallowing thickly, Bishop could only battle the fears and doubts suddenly churning wildly in her mind for so long.

“Bishop,” she said after a moment, quickly switching gears. “No one calls me Anna.”

“John does,” Faith reminded her instantly. “Why is he the exception?”

Face flushing hot, Bishop averted her gaze and kept walking, trying to ignore Faith as she skipped along beside her.

“You _do_ like him,” Faith pressed.

Bishop ignored her, breaking into a run to put distance between them. She didn’t bother looking back to see Faith’s reaction or if she moved to follow, instead focusing on her descent down the hill and making sure she didn’t twist an ankle in the process.

There was a guard stationed at the front gate that she waved to in greeting as she approached. He looked wary until she got closer and she realized with the hat and oversized sweatshirt on, it was probably hard to tell who she was anymore. Good for any Peggies she might come across and be able to ambush…bad for any Resistance allies who might get trigger happy at some stranger approaching from off the main road alone.

Boomer led the way down the dirt path that sloped down towards the waters of the Silver Lake. Bishop took in the sight of the few fighters mingling in the shade of the boat houses nearby before her eyes locked onto a lean figure sauntering out of the office.

“Namaste, Deputy!” Xander greeted her cheerfully.

“Hey, Xander,” she answered with a small wave. “How’s it going?”

“These cultists are seriously messing with my Zen,” he pouted. “We need to push them out already!”

“I’m here to help with that,” she reminded him with a half-smile.

He returned the smile easily.

“We’ve been hearing you making waves across the radio,” he told her. “It would be stellar if you bring that energy here to the Cougars. We need totake out the Bliss polluting our land and minds, man.”

“That’s the plan,” she said simply, readjusting Nick’s hat to scratch her forehead.

It didn’t escape her notice that Xander was watching her carefully; she turned to give him a questioning stare.

“Deputy, I hope you don’t mind me being forward,” he said. “You’re fairly stunning.”

She merely tilted her head at him in confusion; he was laying it on thick but what part of that statement was very forward? Coming from him, it seemed almost tame.

“Thank you,” she replied simply.

“Addie thinks you’re pretty too,” he continued. “And she’s agreed that if we ever decide to have a threesome, I was allowed to pick you as my partner of choice.”

_…oh..._

She was too stunned to say anything, merely staring at him wide-eyed and trying to keep her jaw from hitting the ground.

“…I’ll…keep that in mind…,” she managed to force out meekly.

Eyes desperate for a distraction, she didn’t have to look much further than just over Xander’s shoulder. A familiar face was staring at her from a hundred or so feet back, disbelief showing in their eyes even as a smile was pulling on their face. Bishop felt some of her stunned embarrassment dissipate instantly, replaced with elation.

“Excuse me,” she managed to murmur in farewell to Xander before trotting down the dirt path the rest of the way down to the docks.

Sharky’s arms were already open to catch her as she launched herself at him, arms wrapping snuggly around his neck. He easily held her suspended off the ground as he squeezed her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

“Robocop!” he said excitedly. “Holy shit, Dep – I can’t believe you’re really here!”

Bishop could only smile against Sharky’s neck, arms tightening around him fondly. God, it was good to have him back; she instantly felt lighter…and not just because she was being held off the ground like she weighed no more than a small cat. Sharky seemed to sense her thoughts and planted her solidly back on her own two feet, eyes practically sparkling with excitement.

“Not gonna bullshit ya, Dep,” Sharky said quickly. “Never thought I was gonna see you again. How in the fuck did you escape from John?!”

Cheeks flushing hot as memories of that day flashed through her mind, she leaned in conspiratorially.   

“I have so much to tell you,” she confided softly, glancing around to make sure no else was around to her.

Sharky’s eyes widened in understanding, his mouth practically forming an “O”. Bishop felt herself growing tense at how obvious he was being and grabbed him by the arm to take him aside.

“C’mon, walk with me,” she murmured as she dragged him down towards the furthest pier and away from any prying ears.

* * *

 

“Ho-ly shit,” Sharky said finally, sounding astonished.

Bishop merely nodded her head solemnly, face still tinged pink. She’d only just finished filling him in on everything that had transpired in the days they’d been apart. He’d just about hung on every word she had to say about her faceoff with John; she’d had to look elsewhere when she’d sheepishly told him just what she had to do to escape from John after he caught her.

Trying to ignore the way his jaw had dropped, she quickly sped through the gas station fiasco and how she’d just narrowly squeaked away before being cornered by Faith and taken into the Bliss. His face grew grave as she detailed the Leap and how Faith kept appearing to her out in the wilderness.

“Shit, Dep,” he said finally. “That’s not good.”

“You’re telling me,” she sighed as she rubbed her eyes tiredly. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s in my head half the time anymore.”

“The Bliss shit is no joke,” Sharky conceded. “It screws around with your brain. I can’t keep going back in it or it’ll straight fry my mind.”

“You and me both,” she said softly.

There was silence between them for a moment.

“…but back to John,” he said slowly, steering the conversation back to where she _didn’t_ want it to go. “You made out with him, kicked him to the curb, and then blew up a gas pump – which I am so proud of!” he fawned briefly. “But then what? Has he tried talking to you at all since?”

Bishop felt her blush returning as she tried to think of what to share in response to such a question. She was spared from thinking too hard when a voice echoed to her from up the hill.                                                                                  

 “Sweetie! There you are!!!”

Bishop looked over her shoulder for the person calling out to her. She took in the sight of the marina owner trotted down the sloping hill towards her, all smiles.

“Hey, Adelaide,” she greeted back, smiling at the sight of the older woman. “Long time no see.”

“Oh honey, that’s an understatement,” Adelaide said as she approached and swept her into a hug.

Fighting her initial response to tense, Bishop forced herself to relax and withstand the tightness of Adelaide’s embrace. The older woman pulled back only slightly to give her a once over, smoothing out the mess her long mane had become out of a signature braided hairstyle.

“I went looking for sweet Boomer since _someone_ ,” she snapped, glaring at Sharky, “couldn’t keep an eye on him for even a minute…”

Sharky looked cowed and averted his gaze bashfully. Bishop quickly tried to smooth over the situation before it took a nasty turn.

“I’m sorry he had you worried,” she said, “But he must have come looking for me - found me halfway through my trek out here.”

“That’s some dog you got there, honey,” Adelaide said with a smile as she glanced at him sitting nearby, watching their interaction with a curious head tilt. “You’ll never find a man alive with that sense of loyalty or devotion, that’s for damn sure.”

Bishop looked over at Boomer and smiled fondly at him.

“But enough about that!” Adelaide said excitedly, quickly pulling her attention back. “I want all the dirt on you and lover boy, John!”

All Bishop could do was stare back in shock – there was no way she’d heard her right.

“What?” she asked stupidly.

Adelaide merely grinned mischievously at her.

“Oh, don’t be coy!” she teased. “You and John, tucked away in his bunker…he put those baby blue eyes to good use while seducing ya and then the kissing started! Oh, I need more than just that – details!”

The older woman’s voice steadily started to fade into white noise as Bishop stood and stared through her. How…how did she know this? There was only one-

Eyes widening in realization, Bishop turned slowly to look for her “best friend”. Sharky was in the midst of shaking his head at his aunt and making wild hand gestures begging for silence; the moment his eyes locked with Bishop’s, he froze and looked petrified.

“You son of a bitch…,” Bishop whispered numbly.

“Dep…I-I didn’t-” Sharky tried to explain.

Her dazed state didn’t last long.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!” she roared.

There was nothing but hot, overwhelming anger racing through her veins; she was practically seeing red as Sharky cowered before her.

“You promised!” she snarled viciously, taking a step towards him before stopping herself. “YOU PROMISED!”

“D-Dep, I-I-” he stuttered, holding his hands up in front of himself.

“FUCK YOU!” she spat, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not telling you shit ever again!”

Her hands clenched into fists, ready to start pounding something – anything – to release the raw, burning feelings of betrayal and rage that ate at her insides. She had to leave – she had to step away before she did something she might regret. Any other fucker on the planet who dared cross her in such a way would have been thrown on the ground and had their face pounded in. But this was Sharky…and even through her anger, she couldn’t bring herself to turn violence like that on him.

Instead, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving Sharky, Adelaide, and a number of Resistance fighters poking their heads out of the marina office behind. It didn’t matter where she went, so long as it was far enough away that she wouldn’t be tempted to run back and start swinging. She ignored Adelaide calling her name and stalked off towards the lake’s edge, listening solely to the sound of Boomer scuttling through the grass behind her dutifully and her own footsteps stomping dangerously through the underbrush.

* * *

 

Sharky wisely kept his distance in the hours that followed, leaving Bishop to sit and stew in anger.

 _This was not how I wanted our reunion to go_ , she thought bitterly.

To make matters worse, she’d contacted Dutch and Fall’s End to keep herself preoccupied and was met with troublesome news. Two outposts in Holland Valley had been snatched back by the Peggies and another had been attacked and severely damaged before reinforcements arrived to drive the cultists there back.

“Sorry there’s no good news to share, Deputy,” Mary May told her gravely, sounding tired and stressed. “Your _boyfriend_ is making shit even more difficult as of late.”

Bishop hadn’t missed the biting tone the barkeep used in that remark and felt both angered and shamed by it. She hadn’t asked to speak to Nick, Kim, or Hudson as she planned to and hung up shortly thereafter, leaving her to miserably dwell on her dark thoughts.

She and Boomer sat together by the water watching the sun setting in the distance when the sound of footsteps snagged her attention. Her chest tightened and she turned expecting to see Sharky slinking her way; she was wholly surprised to see Adelaide instead. A fresh wave of dread washed over her at the older woman’s appearance and she forced her gaze back on the water and silently pleaded for the inevitable conversation to follow to not happen at all.

“Sweetie, listen…,” Adelaide started.

“Adelaide, please,” Bishop begged without looking at her. “I can’t do this right now.”

“I know, I know,” the older woman sighed as she eased down to sit next to her. “I’m not here to tease – I’m here to apologize.”

Blinking in surprise, Bishop looked over at her in astonishment.

“What?” she asked lamely.

Adelaide gave her a knowing look.

“It’s a tough position you’re in – poster girl of the Resistance, while also getting frisky on the down low with the hottest of the Seed brothers,” she said, making Bishop flush furiously. “It can’t be easy…and frankly, I don’t envy your situation.”

Despite her embarrassment, Bishop stared at Adelaide questioningly.

“I…I don’t-” she tried saying.

“Look, I get you don’t want others finding out about you and John,” Adelaide cut her off easily. “I know you’re doing everything you can to take the cult out…but it’ll look bad in just about anyone else’s eyes.”

She stared pointedly into Bishop’s face.

“So I’ll keep quiet and not go blabbing to anyone else,” she assured her. “And I’ll put the fear of god in Sharky so he won’t go spreading it around anymore.”

For a moment, Bishop was too moved to speak. She hadn’t known Adelaide was so observant…and so capable of empathy. It was hard to hold the other woman’s gaze as respect and gratitude welled up from deep inside her.

“Thank you…,” she said quietly, her heart filling with warmth.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna grill you for details while you’re here!” Adelaide cut her off quickly. “C’mon now, you gotta tell me the juicy bits! How’s he in the sack? Is he big? He is, isn’t he? I’ve seen the way his jeans sit – that boy must be packing heat! Give me a ballpark figure!”

All at once, the tender feelings Bishop had cultivated vanished in place of absolute mortification.

“I didn’t have sex with him!” she practically squeaked. “We only kissed!”

Adelaide gave her a look of disbelief.

“WE DIDN’T-!” Bishop started before realizing she was yelling and snapping her jaw shut bashfully; she took a moment to breathe in and out before lowering her voice. “Addie, I promise you, he and I have not slept together. All we’ve done is kiss.”

Holding Adelaide’s gaze was incredibly difficult while her eyes were so scrutinizing and Bishop’s face was burning from a hot red blush. After a few moments, the older woman seemed to acknowledge her sincerity with a soft hum.

“Well, that’s both of your losses,” she said. “His loss because he’d probably mellow the fuck out if he got some choice tail…And your loss because, honey, you look at him and tell me he wouldn’t break the bed frame rutting you into oblivion.”

Bishop finally had to cover her face with her hands, unable to bear the weight of Adelaide’s shameless, lusty eyes.

“Please, stop!” she begged, voice muffled.

Adelaide merely threw back her head and laughed heartily.

“Oh, sugar!” she practically cooed, reaching out to hug her tightly. “It’s adorable how easy it is to get you flustered!”

The deputy could only flush and accept the embrace, feeling far too embarrassed to do much else. It was incredible how right Adelaide was – she’d never been so easily ruffled about anyone else before. She’d flirted and seduced plenty of men over the years for one night stands…she’d never considered herself too shy about her sexuality. But John Seed was a whole different ball game; someone just had to mention his name and it sent her into a tizzy.

God, she was in over her head.

Adelaide finally pulled away, still smiling to herself as she sat in silence beside Bishop. They watched the horizon together for a time and Bishop felt herself slowly relaxing.

“One other thing…”

Bishop glanced warily over at Adelaide from over the tops of her knees.

“Sharky’s an idiot…,” Adelaide said flatly. “But he really was a mess when he thought you were gone for good. It’s not all his fault he blabbed – he was just a few shots shy of drinking himself to death. Now I’m not saying you have to forgive him…but just keep in mind how much he adores you. Boy thinks the sun, moon, and stars all revolve around ya… would it hurt to cut him some slack?”

Considering that a moment, Bishop felt some of her residual anger melt away. She was already in the process of forgiving him but Adelaide’s words took the heaviness off her chest that had been threatening to choke her the last few hours. After a moment, she turned to consider Adelaide thoughtfully.

“You _do_ care about him,” she said with a teasing grin.

Adelaide rolled her eyes at her.

“He’s absolutely hopeless…but he has his moments,” she said with a sigh. “However few and far between they are…”

Adelaide gave her a sidelong glance that didn’t escape Bishop’s notice

“He’s also got it real bad for ya, darlin’,” Adelaide said after a moment. “He and John ain’t the only ones: did Xander talk to ya about-”

“No!” Bishop cut her off far too quickly, back to flushing violently. “I’m, uh, not looking  for anything…like _that_ right now.”

“Girl, you keep up that mentality, you’re gonna become just as wound up as ol’ lover boy, John,” Adelaide scolded. “If only you’d fuck him, it’d do wonders for ya both, I promise ya that!”

She gave Bishop another thoughtful glance.

“And if you ever change your mind about Xander’s proposition… _I’ll_ always be here ready for ya, darlin’.”

* * *

 

The marina was blasting some eighties tunes from the old jukebox shoved in the corner of the office when she trailed behind Adelaide back towards the heart of the activity. Bishop found Sharky sitting alone with a beer in hand and an unopened six-pack at his feet, uncharacteristically quiet. She stood watching him sitting there – pensive and dejected - and took a minute to sort through her lingering anger before approaching.

Sharky blinked at her in surprise as she dropped down loudly on the crate beside him, plucking the beer from his hand and bringing it up to her lips. He merely watched silently as she chugged its contents in seconds.

“Music here’s not bad,” she offered up after she wiped her mouth dry on the back of her hand.

“…yeah,” he answered cautiously. “They got nothing but 80s on the track list…”

“Even better,” Bishop said after a moment.

They entered into an uncomfortable silence that Bishop was in no hurry to break. After a minute, however, she sighed and pulled Nick’s hat off before wiggling the oversized hoodie up over her head and offering it to Sharky.

“Here,” she said simply.

He seemed to regard the sweatshirt thoughtfully for a moment before slowly taking it off her hands. It didn’t escape her notice he was trying very hard not to openly stare at the tattoo on her chest; it itched something fierce but she did her best to resist the urged to scratch it, especially in that moment.

“…thanks,” she thought to add after a second, reseating the Rye & Sons cap back on her head as she did.

“Sure,” he replied quietly.

They lapsed into silence once more. Just as Bishop was starting to get antsy and ready to go find something else to distract herself, Sharky spoke up.

“Dep…,” he started awkwardly, glancing down at his hands. “…I’m sorry.”

She turned to stare at him as he actively avoided her gaze.

“I shouldn’t have been running my mouth…I don’t even really remember telling Aunt Addie,” he admitted. “I was pretty hammered…I just…I thought I wasn’t gonna…”

Instantly, she felt herself softening towards him as he struggled to explain his fears. She deeply regretted her gross overreaction earlier and placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing his gaze finally up to her face.

“You fucked up bad,” she told him sternly before letting her eyes grow warm. “But I can’t stay too mad at you.”

He perked up instantly.

“Really?” he asked.

“Don’t misunderstand me: I’m still pissed at you,” she supplied gravely, reaching for a beer from the six-pack at their feet. “…but I understand you were under a lot of stress there too.”

He turned away, embarrassed; she regarded him carefully for a second before popping open the tab of her fresh beer.

“You’re lucky you’re my best friend,” she said gruffly, taking a swig. “I don’t give second chances to anyone. Ever.”

Sharky turned to look at her, eyes practically sparkling, and Bishop found it hard to fight the smile wanting to work its way onto her face, despite her attempts to appear stoic and unapproachable. They returned to silence, only this time it was companionable, the tension all but disappearing between them. She watched from afar as Adelaide tried to get Xander to dance to the song currently blasting around the marina and finally let herself to take notice to what had started playing.

 _“Oh,_ _something’s got me so delighted baby_ ,” she started crooning, swaying gently as she sang in time with the music blaring. “ _I see your face in everything I dooooo_.”

She playfully nudged shoulders with Sharky as he started to nod his head to the rhythm, listening to the song just as intently as she was.

 _“You got me shook up, shook down, shook up onnnnn your loving,”_ he supplied next, voice cracking as he tried to go falsetto.

Bishop could only laugh around her beer, trying not to snort it out as Sharky rubbed his throat at the pitch God never intended him to hit. She watched him finally take the sweatshirt in his hands and slip it back over his head, finally looking more like himself as he rolled up its sleeves over his elbows. He sniffed the collar of it briefly and she raised an eyebrow at him in question.

“It…it smells like you,” he supplied sheepishly, flushing under her gaze.

She felt her face grow a little hot at that and gave him a good shove so he couldn’t see her face; she hadn’t had enough beer yet to blame it on the alcohol.

“ _Up on this rooftop, I'll be waiting - for your love, anticipating_ ,” she launched back into the lyrics easily. _“Hurry up and come, ‘cause I can't wait to get it onnnn.”_

“ _I’m gonna give it to you alllllllll nighttttttt longggggg_ ,” they sang together, attracting stares but not caring in the least.  

“Oh man, we’re dancing,” Sharky said excitedly as he leapt to his feet, crouching briefly to snag himself another beer.

“Nope,” Bishop answered quickly, drinking her own can steadily.

“Ah, c’mon!” he insisted as he walked backwards towards the jukebox. “We’re celebrating!”

“…if it has ‘Act Like You Know’ on there, maybe. We’ll see,” she relented, cycling through her head for a more obscure song to strengthen her odds.

Sharky was off in a flash, skirting past Adelaide who gave him a withering stare before looking up towards Bishop and smiling at her. Bishop returned the gesture, raising a hand in acknowledgment, before looking back to Boomer settling down comfortably at her feet. She watched his ears twitching to the sounds echoing from all up and down the marina for a minute before dragging her gaze to the walkie at her hip.

It really was past time to contact the Sheriff or anyone at the jail to let them know she’d made it here safely…and yet, all she could think of was telling John earlier she’d contact him again later. Before she even had a chance to think through what she was doing, she was cranking the radio back to his frequency and listening to the silence on the other end.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked herself aloud, feeling embarrassed at her own eagerness.

She didn’t _need_ to be checking in with him like she did Dutch or Fall’s End or the folks at the jail…but it’s what she _wanted._ She liked hearing his voice, even when it was spewing all sorts of bullshit about the end of the world and God and their destinies together. Flushing profusely at that last thought, she suddenly recalled Faith’s words from before.

“ _He loves you_.”

That shouldn’t affect her the way it did: butterflies filling her stomach to the point of practically bursting. John himself had said Faith was a liar and a manipulator, why should she trust anything she said? Still, she couldn’t help but feel flustered as the words buzzed around repeatedly in her head. Her hands stalled on the radio, suddenly paralyzed at the thought of trying to hold conversation with John in such a state.

“ _Yeah! You outta know! Act just like – act just like you know!”_

Bishop started at the sudden change in music, disbelief coursing through her as she glanced down towards the marina office where the jukebox sat.

“No way,” she said in amazement.

Sharky came hurtling into view, eyes looking for her excitedly; when he caught sight of her staring at him, he motioned excitedly for her to take in the song playing.

“IT’S GOT IT!” he called, already racing towards her.

Groaning to herself to cover up the smile on her face, Bishop quickly brought her beer up to chug. She had only just polished it off and crushed the can when Sharky arrived to grab her by the arm and drag her down closer to the music. Bishop had only a moment to unclip her walkie and leave it behind on the crate before Sharky was hauling her out to join Adelaide and Xander and two other Resistance fighters filling the space.

For the moment, all things John related could wait. All she could focus on was Sharky’s insane catalogue of dance moves versus Xander’s and trying not to laugh herself hoarse as she was forced to bear witness to them together. As Adelaide grabbed her by the hand and spun her in a circle, she found herself smiling and feeling light as a feather for the first time all day.

“ _You don’t belong with them,”_ Faith had said.

It only reinforced John's insistence that Faith was indeed a liar: Bishop couldn't think of a single place she'd rather be.

* * *

 

 

“I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy your loving is all I think about  
I just can't get you out of my head  
Boy it's more than I dare to think about  
  
There's a dark secret in me  
Don't leave me locked in your heart  
  
Set me free  
Feel the need in me  
Set me free  
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever"

 

_ Can't Get You Out of My Head, Kylie Minogue _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "All Night Long" is by the Mary Jane Girls and "Act Like You Know" is by Fat Larry's Band, in case anyone was interested in them.  
> Many apologies for the wait! I hadn't intended to take so long to write and post...but then life threw some wrenches in the works. And then Ubisoft released New Game+ and Infamous Mode and I was steamrolling through the campaign over 3 days to earn that beautiful "Rook" outfit and everything else got pushed to the back burner, lol  
> I'm really looking forward to everything beyond this point cause I'm antsy to give John something more to do than just sit around idly - and I'm seriously ready to have him reunite with Anna, lol  
> Anyways, I'd like to thank everyone who left kudos and reviews before - they really do make me feel all the more inspired to keep writing! <3 <3 <3 It really does mean the world to me that you're interested in just where Anna and John's story goes <3


	4. Chapter 4

It had been hours since Anna had last spoken with him – and it still worried him how hurried she was when she ended the call. John had tried to keep his thoughts occupied with a full schedule of cleansings and confessions lined up…but his heart wasn’t in any of it. Even as he pulled sins and secrets from their lips, his mind was still on thoughts of Anna at Faith’s mercy across the Henbane.

He had forced himself away from the radio he usually kept on hand to converse with her, leaving it alone in his office while he tried to attend to the needs of the Project. But as the night waxed on, he grew more antsy to have heard anything from the deputy. There was no news to be heard from the Project members in Faith’s turf of any of her exploits…and she hadn’t called in like she had implied she would.

Patience finally running up, he shut himself into his office and reached for the radio laying there silently on the desk.

“Deputy Bishop?” he ventured.

There was no reply – as he expected. Oftentimes he reached out to her and she didn’t answer; he had to assume she was constantly cycling through channels any given day and the likelihood of catching her was always a gamble, especially now as she was operating on Henbane frequencies too. Still, he wasn’t one who gave up so easily.

“Deputy, are you there? Deputy?”

Nothing. He was considering keeping it up for another few minutes before calling it quits when the line crackled to life.

“Do my ears deceive me or is that John Seed speaking?”

Blinking in surprise at the unfamiliar voice to answer him, he glanced down at the radio in his hand to make sure he had the right frequency before thinking to answer.

“You know me…I’m afraid I can’t say the same,” he offered up neutrally.

“Adelaide Drubman – we’ve met before.”

Ah, so they had…twice, actually. The real estate agent had been very open about her attraction to him from the second they were introduced; he was buying up as much property as he could in the name of the Father and any real estate agents on their side would certainly expedite that endeavor so he’d indulged her at their first meeting. It had become readily apparent, however, that she would never join the church…and John wasn’t entirely sure she was even a worthy pursuit and had dropped his charade at being charming by her the second she was out of his sight. Their second encounter had been just as disastrous: he’d been left trying to fend off her flirtations and advances in front of Joseph himself.

“Ah, I see,” he answered simply.

“I know you’re not looking to talk to me – I didn’t need to hear you asking for the deputy to know that’s who you were trying to reach,” she said, her mirth evident.

“…is that so?” he humored her, already cautioning himself with a reminder of what happened the last time he did that.

“ _I_ know your dirty secret,” Adelaide teased.

John could practically feel her smile through the tone of voice she used, her satisfaction palpable. His brow knit in confusion, wondering just what in the world she was referring to.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he said honestly, tone guarded to hide his wariness.

“Oh, there’s no need to play coy!” Adelaide laughed. “You and a beautiful little deputy, all alone in your bunker…indulge me, how hard was it to get her to let you kiss her? She’s so adorably easy to fluster, you must have had to take your time - care to share your strategy?”

For once, John felt himself at a loss for words. How…how did she know

“Where did you hear such a thing?” he asked cautiously.

“Straight from the horse’s mouth!” she answered giddily.

John felt his lips part unconsciously.

“She told you?” he asked, unable to hide his surprise.

That went against everything he knew about Anna; if anything, he would have suspected her willing to take their connection to the grave, just as she had with the other secrets he had managed to pull from her in confession. He had no qualms about airing his time spent with her or his intentions for their future…but to know she was out there telling others left him all but stupefied.

“Well…no,” Adelaide admitted after a second, making John’s brow furrow again. “She told Sharky, who then told me. But it was practically firsthand!”

“She told Boshaw…,” John heard himself saying.

“Oh, all the juicy details!” Adelaide teased. “Once ain’t enough, is it lover boy? Trying to lure her back in for more? Good luck with that! You must know as well as I do she’s too wild to be domesticated, as much as you want to keep her for a pet.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that; frankly, he was still too hung up on the fact that she had shared what had transpired between them to anyone else…and to have gone and told _Boshaw_ …

“Besides…,” Adelaide’s voice cut through his thoughts, her tone mischievous, “You’ve got some competition, honey.”

“Competition?” John parroted, unable to keep from scoffing. “Is that so…?”

“Well, I am watching her dancing cheek to cheek with Sharky right now,” she continued, unfazed by his mocking. “So you tell me…”

His mouth opened and snapped shut aggressively in the span of seconds, no sound coming out; he was wholly choked by the sudden surge of anger and jealousy coursing through him. The radio in his hand was clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white around it; he had to resist the urge to smash it into a thousand pieces upon his desk.

 _Sharky Boshaw_ …

Why was it always Boshaw? Any of the reports he received of her whereabouts and activities following her Cleansing almost always included sightings of Boshaw at her side, indulging in some ridiculous shenanigans that he would have never otherwise dreamt she’d be a part of.

He’d seen the security footage firsthand of the Resistance’s ridiculous rescue mission into his bunker; it was infuriating enough to watch them rush his men and storm the stronghold without triggering an alarm until it was far too late…but to then have to watch the outpouring of sinners escaping and seeing Anna carried on Boshaw’s back was just too much.

And it hadn’t escaped his notice that she was clad in that man’s sweatshirt the day he’d chased her all the way over the Henbane and out of his reach.

Boshaw had been always been a nuisance, but one he could easily overlook; now it seemed he was an inescapable menace and John couldn’t help but alight with hatred and fury anytime he was forced to hear his name, let alone think about him. A bum from one of the most infamous families in the county…no real merit aside from his time in and out of jail for arson and destruction of property. Why would Anna willingly associate with one such as him? A deputy of the local law enforcement willingly fraternizing with a man who had an outstanding warrant for his arrest…it seemed hypocritical that she’d condemn Joseph for such an infraction but embrace Boshaw wholly for it.

John hated Boshaw – he _hated_ him. Such a dirty, vulgar man…but the fact that he occupied so much of Anna’s time and attention was what enraged him the most. Just what did she see in him? Why was she constantly letting him tag along and doting on him?

“Cat got your tongue?” Adelaide taunted him and he realized he must have been silent for some time. “Well, can you blame him? She’s a real catch – there are plenty of others ready to form a line…time’s a wastin’ if you’re planning on _stepping into her garden_ …”

His mind raced for something to say to that.

“Ah, speak of the devil!” Adelaide said before he could counter. “Play nice…”

There was the sound of soft voices being exchanged on the other end of the line before the radio crackled to life again.

“Deputy Bishop here,” Anna’s voice came through pleasantly.

For a moment, he felt a rush of excitement at finally hearing her speak after so long…but it was just as easily quashed by his vindictive, bitter feelings from moments before.

“Keeping busy, Deputy?” he asked sullenly.

“…I suppose,” she conceded after a moment, clearly startled to hear his voice. “Were…were you just speaking with Adelaide?”

“She had plenty to say,” he told her. “I don’t think I got so much as a word in.”

Anna laughed uncomfortably, the sound hollow in his ears.

“Yeah, she’s like that,” she admitted.

A tense silence settled between them and John felt himself simmering with anger.

“Are you checking in?” she finally ventured cautiously. “Or is this…something else?”

“Since you failed to call back as promised, I thought something might have happened to you,” he said forcefully. “But you seem to be doing just fine…”

“I…I did say I would,” she acknowledged sheepishly. “This has been such a crazy day, it just slipped my mind-”

“Did it?” he demanded, cutting her off. “Or was your attention too devoted to other pursuits?”

There was heavy pause from her end that left him drumming his fingers across the desk’s surface impatiently.

“Why are you being like this?” she finally asked, sounding put off.

“I’m sorry if my concern for your wellbeing seems misplaced,” he shot back. “By all means, if I’ve taken you away from something more _important,_ perhaps you should get back to it.”

He didn’t want her to go but he couldn’t fight the aggressive fury that held his chest in such a tight grip.

“What is your problem?” she demanded, sounding irritated. “What is this about?”

“If you’d rather go spend your time in that braindead hillbilly’s arms, who am I to keep you?” he snapped.

“How did you-?” she started to ask, sounding stunned, before going silent for a moment. “…Adelaide…”

“I am curious: just what about him is worth your time?” he demanded. “The wanted arson and the junior deputy…why isn’t he behind bars? He’s got just as much reason to be there as Joseph in your eyes.”

Anna was silent for some time and he felt himself growing more tense as it dragged out.

“Are…are you actually jealous?” she said in disbelief.

He audibly scoffed.

“Of _what_? That man is a disgrace,” he insisted.

“You _are_ ,” she continued, still sounding awestruck. “I can’t believe this…”

“I am _not_ jealous of that idiot,” he all but yelled.

“It’s incredible: he’s jealous of you and you’re jealous of him,” she said, probably shaking her head based on her tone of voice alone. “What is with you all…?”

“He has nothing that I want,” he insisted fiercely.

“He has my time, and that evidently bothers you,” she snapped back. “He’s my best friend, I’m not gonna stop hanging out with him just because you’re being a possessive jerk.”

“How often has he almost gotten you killed?” John demanded. “Just in the last few weeks alone, indulge me in an estimate.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” she sighed angrily.

“How often?” he repeated. “I got to hear one instance myself just over a week ago – or have you already forgotten how he could have shot you with his idiocy?”

“How many times have your men almost killed me?” she shot back. “Don’t try and pull that shit – Sharky’s not some punching bag for you to take your insecurities out on!”

“My insecu-?!” he started to snap before catching himself and snapping his mouth shut.

It was hard to focus on anything other than the rage that had him held tightly in its grasp. Anna was treading dangerous ground by mocking his feelings.

“I would not be antagonizing me as you are, _Deputy_ ,” John warned viciously. “The consequences could be… _severe_.”

She audibly scoffed, only stoking his rage.

“Please,” she sneered. “We both know you can’t touch me while I’m here. How about you call back when you’ve decided you’re gonna be less of an asshole?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond; he heard her switch off her radio and he was left with a retort hanging heavy on his tongue. Anger only mounting, he used the hand still holding his walkie in a death grip to swipe the papers off the corner of the table, watching them shower down upon the floor with distaste.

_We both know you can’t touch me while I’m here._

There in lay the problem: if she’d just come back to the valley, he wouldn’t have any need to be thinking of Boshaw consuming her time or having her taunt him mercilessly from afar. He’d throw her back in that chair she’d spent so much time in before and leave her solely at his mercy. She wouldn’t be so haughty then, would she?

She’d resent him until the end of days if he did, though; even through his rage, he could see that. He didn’t want to have to go down that path but she was making it seem more and more like the only option he had left. Why did she insist on making things so difficult and painful? Couldn’t she see how much he burned for her and that her continual rebuffing only stoked the flames?

_We both know you can’t touch me while I’m here._

Those words infuriated him more than anything…but they also made him realize he _did_ have cards left to play. He smirked to himself as let his fingers drum over the table’s surface noisily; he’d been playing fair up until now, using a gentle hand to try and persuade her to heed his beck and call. But now, it seemed necessary to bring the fist down: if she wanted to fight dirty, he was more than willing to rise to the challenge…

* * *

 

Bishop woke feeling surprisingly decent. She was only slightly hungover, her threshold for alcohol surprisingly high for someone of her size and weight; Sharky had drank three times as much and was still passed out, snoring in a pile of empty beer cans, when she picked herself up from the corner she’d dragged a sleeping bag towards hours earlier. There was quiet chatter out towards the marina office where several Resistance fighters had gathered for a small breakfast that she made her way towards.

She didn’t anticipate anything intricate and wasn’t disappointed by the sight of a small variety of convenience store food scattered across the picnic table the others were all seated around. Pawing through the less delectable options, she snagged a protein bar for herself and set to work chewing through its tough surface, listening in quietly to the news and gossip the others were airing.

“Morning, sweetie!” Adelaide’s voice floated to her before the woman made her appearance, looking refreshed and energized. “My, what a night! Any plans for today?”

“Well…not really,” Bishop acknowledged. “Thought I might go visit Peaches since we’re close…but that means having to see Mabel too…”

“Oh, isn’t she just the sweetest?” Adelaide said sarcastically.

“About as cuddly as a crocodile,” Bishop answered easily.

Adelaide merely chuckled in agreement, reaching out to tap her affectionately on the chin as she passed by. The older woman’s gaze fell in the direction of Sharky as his snoring reached their vicinity and her faze soured instantly.

“Who’s letting that numbskull sleep the day away?” she grumbled before stalking towards his sleeping form.

Bishop turned away before she had to watch their typical family drama unfold and focused on the remnants of her breakfast. She couldn’t help but feel a longing for the comfort and food found in the Rye’s kitchen and dwelled wistfully on the wonderful morning they’d all shared together what felt like so long ago.

Inevitably, her thoughts drifted to John Seed and how he ruined such a day by instigating a firefight and she felt her stomach sour with anger. He’d ruined last night too with his jealous, angry ranting…just who did he think he was?! They weren’t an item, no matter what he thought of their “connection” and “God’s plan” for them. She would have as much fun with her friends as she wanted to – and she’d done just that after hanging up on him. Snatched another six-pack off the ground and marched straight back towards Sharky, Adelaide, and Xander and insisted they go back to some fast paced music to dance the rest of the night away to. By the time the music had died down, she was so exhausted it was a miracle she had managed to find a place under cover to curl up and catch a few hours of rest.

Sharky finally staggered up to the table, looking haggard and still half asleep; Bishop patted him consolingly on the arm as he sat down beside her. Her eyes locked on his sweatshirt and the button still pinned tightly to it and quickly reached to unfasten it.

“I gotta hold onto this one,” she said, looking for a good place to pin it.

Mary May’s borrowed button down was beat to hell from the firefight at the airstrip and her tank top was starting to show signs of wear too. Nick’s hat was still holding up pretty well…if she had to, she could pin it there, she supposed…

“Honey, why don’t you come look through some of my things?” Adelaide said, looking over her tattered clothes with a scrutinizing eye. “You’re practically falling apart at the seams.”

“Alright,” Bishop agreed and rose to her feet. “Just know I can’t promise I can get anything back to you in one piece.”     

She followed Adelaide to the corner of the marina that served as her current residency. It wasn’t a bad setup: she had her own bed, fridge, and bathroom in her little pool house that Bishop found herself admiring as she was lead through the small space towards the wardrobe in the back.

“You’re a bit shorter…and maybe a bit bustier,” Adelaide said, giving her a lingering once over that left Bishop trying not to shake her head in response to. “But you’ll fit into what I have, no problem.”

Bishop unbuttoned her ruined shirt and was working on pulling her tank top over her head when Adelaide finally turned to face her with options in hand.

“Oh, sweetie…,” she said sympathetically.

It took a moment for the deputy to realize she was staring at the letters tattooed across her chest. Feeling her face heat momentarily, she kept herself distracted by folding her dirty clothes over her arm.

“It’s not so bad,” she insisted after a second, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“There are plenty of more pleasurable ways he could have marked ya,” the older woman joked.

Bishop merely gave a tight-lipped smile in response, not eager to be spending more time dwelling on John just yet. She gestured towards the clothes still in Adelaide’s hands, desperate to move on.

“Which are you less attached to?” she asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Adelaide waved her off. “They’re not much my style anyway…too much coverage.”

Bishop accepted the dark gray tank from her wordlessly and pulled it over her head. As she stared at the two button downs and the pair of jeans Adelaide was offering, she heard a knock in the distance.

“What is it?” Adelaide called out.

“Radio!” a voice replied.

“Be right back, sugar,” Adelaide said as she exited the room, leaving Bishop alone to deliberate.

She pulled on the jeans without question and ended up settling on the comfier, purple shirt. After she buttoned up to cover most of her tattoo, she thought to pin her Cougars button above her breast and admired the sight of it in the small mirror adjacent to the bed.

A recurrent desire to reach into the pocket it was fastened above to look for her father’s badge seized her and she felt a familiar pang of longing and sadness at its loss. She wasn’t allowed to dwell too long in her own misery before she heard footsteps approaching again – fast. Adelaide poked her head in, looking uncharacteristically grave.

“Honey, it’s Dutch for ya,” she said quickly. “It sounds bad.”

Bishop could feel her eyes widen as she raced to follow Adelaide back towards the marina’s office where her radio lay in wait.

* * *

 

“-weren’t satisfied with just that,” Dutch was telling her. “They forced their way into town and started grabbing up whatever they could get their hands on before being forced out.”

Bishop had her walkie in a white knuckled grip as she was forced to listen to the devastation that had befallen Fall’s End while she slept. Her eyes narrowed angrily as she glared out at the still lake waters, sparkling innocently and peacefully lapping at the dock under her feet.

“What kind of supplies did they lose?” Bishop asked tiredly, trying to rub her face and ease some of the irritation out. “I can ask around about weapons and food…”

“Those aren’t the worst losses,” Dutch said gravely. “John’s men snatched up a handful of people-”

Alarm quickly erased whatever emotions she had otherwise been feeling; she had to stop herself from leaping to her feet, gripping the edge of the crate she was sitting on tightly.

“Who?” she demanded quickly. “Are the Ryes alright? What about Hudson-”

“Easy, kid!” Dutch protested. “No, the Ryes are all fine, as is Deputy Hudson. Pastor Jerome and Mary May are still in control-”

Everything else he was saying almost faded into background noise as she practically clutched her heart and sighed in relief. It was selfish and cruel to be so blasé about the Resistance members who weren’t as fortunate…but she allowed herself a moment of indulgence, feeling lighter knowing that her friends were safe.

“-not so lucky, as were Peter Callahan and Connie Beaufort.”

Bishop felt a pang of grief and regret pierce her heart. Connie had been one of the leaders in storming John’s bunker to free her and Hudson…to now be down there herself with no chance at escape was unspeakably cruel and unfair. She’d been shot through the leg during the several days siege of Fall’s End the last time Bishop had been in town – had that played any part in her being overpowered and dragged out in the middle of the night?

“…Mary May wanted me to be sure you knew your pal Mark Nickerson was taken back too,” Dutch added after a moment, seeming to pick up on her mood’s sudden dark turn.

“Mark?” she repeated, feeling alarmed again.

The last name meant nothing to her…but Mark had been her next door neighbor in the time she’d spent down in the bunker. He had escaped with her only to be forced back down in that hellish nightmare – what kind of bullshit was that?! She found herself dwelling on John’s assertion that everything happening was “God’s plan” and felt another wave of fury sweep over; it only strengthened her view that no such God was worthy of her time anymore. The world was vile and harsh enough…it didn’t need any help making it worse from the inattentiveness of its creator.

“It’s still a mess over there now,” Dutch continued. “I know you probably want to check in but I’d give it a least another day before trying.”

“Alright,” she finally conceded, tearing herself from her violent, hateful thoughts. “Thanks for keeping me in the loop, Dutch.”

“Wish it wasn’t terrible news that had to be shared…but it’s not gonna get better until we take out this goddamn cult!” he responded. “You keep yourself safe, ya hear? Dutch, out.”

Bishop let the line go silent as she sat and stared out at the calm waters once more. Sharky had approached some time ago and finally chose to warily step closer, his footsteps still loud as he tried to be discreet. Boomer looked up from where he lay with his head on his paws and watched as Sharky stood off to the side and stared at Bishop.

“What now, Dep?” he ventured uneasily.

She remained silent, her gut in turmoil with the turbulent cocktail of emotions churning within it. Overwhelmingly, she was seized by rage, feeling it growing with each passing moment. There was only one explanation for why Fall’s End had been so suddenly attacked after so long without incident…and it all boiled down to a conversation held over radio by moonlight the night before.

Wrenching her walkie back up, she cranked to the Peggie frequency she knew by heart.

“John!” she spat into her radio. “John Seed!”

“Dep-u-ty…”

She grit her teeth, letting her anger overtake any warm feelings she might have otherwise felt at hearing his voice again.

“You son of a bitch,” she snarled.

“Is that any sort of greeting?” he chastised her playfully, fully aware of the hypocrisy of such a statement.

“What, you got jealous and decided to take it out on a bunch of innocent civilians?” she demanded. “You’re insufferable.”

“Civilians? Maybe,” he conceded. “But innocent? Oh, Anna…don’t delude yourself into thinking anyone in that town is innocent. It’s a den of sinners, all selfish and narrow minded.”

Baring her teeth, Bishop worked in the urge to knock something over: _the fucking hypocrite_ …

“I’m sorry, Anna, but you’re not around for me to properly display my…displeasure,” he said dangerously. “So I have to settle for what I can get my hands on. And in the end, it seems you got the message...and that’s what counts.”

Bishop felt her hand clench around her walkie dangerously tight.

“It’d be different if we were face to face,” he taunted. “There’d be no need for middle men. We’d hash this out like adults.”

“Give me a time and a place,” she challenged. “I’ll be there.”

There was a brief pause that Bishop only felt more enraged by, even as her heart skipped treacherously.

“Do you promise?” he goaded finally.

“Absolutely,” she growled. “You don’t need all your teeth – I’ll help with that.”

He merely chuckled in amusement and she seethed internally, her anger solidifying.

“Holland Valley Station – you remember where that is?” he teased.

Oh, she knew. They’d sprinted just past it together in the desperate race to the border with Henbane River.

“I can be there in half a day,” she said.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Bishop cranked her radio off with a violent wrench of her hand, teeth grinding together as she tried tempering her rage to no avail. 

“Dep…,” Sharky ventured uneasily, clearly worried she might turn on him.

She ignored him as she stomped off towards her weapons lying out by the dock and started gearing up. The second all her guns were holstered at her side and slung across her back she was in motion, storming up the ramp towards the marina exit.

“We’re leaving,” she told Sharky curtly as she passed him still glued to the same spot.

He said nothing in response but she heard him shuffle to retrieve his shotgun and scamper to keep up with her. Adelaide stood with the guard posted by the front gate, shooting the breeze; she looked up when she heard Bishop’s noisy approach.

“Uh oh,” she said gravely. “You look madder than hell, sweetie…”

“I’m heading back to Holland Valley,” Bishop told her, trying to keep her temper reined in. “I have a head to bust in…”

“Mm-hmm…,” Adelaide merely said, looking at her doubtfully. “Well, stay safe, honey. In _every way…_ I have some condoms lying around if you need some-”

“That’s not happening,” Bishop assured her flatly. “I am going to beat the shit out of him.”

“Your loss, sugar,” Adelaide said with a shrug; she lost some the teasing look in her eyes as she stepped closer to hug Bishop. “You be careful out there, honey…”

Bishop could only stand stiffly in her embrace, finally bringing up a hand to pat her on the back to let her know she appreciated the gesture despite her rage. When the older woman pulled back, Bishop set off towards the road without a second glance, letting Boomer take the lead. That cult pickup truck better be where she’d left it the day before…

* * *

 

The long drive from Drubman Marina down past the Hope County Jail was tense and silent as the grave. Sharky didn’t utter a single sound, seeming to sense that any noise he might make would be a cue for Bishop to turn on him – and since he was still on thin ice for his faux pas from before, he seemed not ready to chance failing out of her favor again so soon.

Still, she could tell he desperately wanted to say something. His eyes kept darting from her to the road ahead and to the passenger window in the beginning; as time dragged on, he became less wary of being caught and openly stared at the side of her head, practically boring a hole into her.

She ignored him, all thoughts consumed by John Seed.

_That fucking asshole…_

Why did she not anticipate such a despicable act from him? He’d already proven once before he was willing to unleash devastation on anyone in his path to getting her back in his clutches – that night at Rye & Sons Aviation should have made her more wary of what he was capable of.

And she’d deliberately baited him the night before, not even considering of the consequences of such an action. He’d even warned her and she’d laughed him off.

Pulling the truck off on the shoulder, Bishop ignored the squeal of protest the tires made as they skidded through the gravel and dirt. She cut the engine off violently and snatched her assault rifle out of the backseat before opening the driver side door. Sharky exited slowly as well, watching her as she let Boomer out of the back and started off on foot.

They were only a mile or two off from the border with Holland Valley – it would take less than an hour to get there. Probably even quicker, since she was setting a blazing pace fueled heavily by her rage.

“Dep…,” Sharky finally spoke up, breaking the suffocating silence. “I’m just gonna come out and say it: this seems like a bad idea…”

She ignored him, not wanting to acknowledge the merit in anything he was saying; she was still far too mad for rational thought.

“You ain’t stupid,” Sharky continued. “You have to know he’s just waiting to grab you…what exactly are we gonna do when we get there?”

“We kill whoever he brought with him. And then I’m gonna kick the shit out of him,” she said.

Sounded terrible in theory…and even worse the more she thought it over. Sharky was right about her recklessness - this wasn’t the wisest course of action and the gravity of what she was doing was fully weighing down on her. What did she expect from John at this rendezvous? He _was_ clearly setting up an ambush; he probably had 30 men to the meager team she had of herself, Sharky, and Boomer.

This was fixing up to be Red’s Farm Supply all over again – only she had unknowingly walked into that one. Now she was charging headlong into a clearly disastrous situation of her own volition…perhaps it was wise to take a step back and consider the danger awaiting her.

She had let her anger – _her Wrath_ – get the better of her. It was just incredibly fortunate she had been as far away from Holland Valley as possible when John had triggered her blind rage; it gave her time to return to rationality just before she went plunging over the border with her fists flying. Her feet had come to a standstill before she knew it, gaze on the dirt and grass beneath her boots as she contemplated what course of action was best.

If she didn’t show, John would in all likelihood retaliate…and continue to do so until she actually showed up in person to face him. And if she did show, he was absolutely more than ready to overpower her and drag her kicking and screaming back down to the hellish nightmare that was his bunker…

Either way he won. A wave of dread washed over her as she realized the corner he had backed her into.

“Shit,” she swore under her breath, feeling her gut clench with anxiety.

Turning back to Sharky, she took in his wary face as she stared at him in dismay.

“I don’t know what to do,” she told him honestly.

Sharky’s face softened with sympathy as he watched her lose her edge and become smaller with self-doubt. She forced her gaze from him, not wanting to see the pity in his eyes. What did she do? There were very limited doors available for her to open – and they appeared to be vanishing steadily with each passing second…

“Still coming, Deputy? Or did you get cold feet?” John’s voice taunted her suddenly, reinforcing how screwed she truly was.

Feeling another swell of rage rising up inside, she snatched the walkie off her hip viciously.

“For someone who preaches of virtues, you’re very impatient,” she snapped.

“Forgive me for believing in punctuality,” he said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “It won’t do to make me wait much longer…”

Oh, she could kill him…

“Dep…”

She only vaguely heard Sharky’s ominous call, too focused on coming up with something scorching to say in response to John.

“You know what?” she started heatedly, feeling her chest tighten with rage. “I think that you-”

“DEP!”

The urgency in Sharky’s yell ripped Bishop’s attention from the conversation with John just in time to hear the squealing of tires approaching. She’d barely had time to unholster her Beretta before the ambush opened fire.

Dropping flat onto her stomach, she covered her head with the radio still clutched tightly in her hand, thumb still pressing the talk button as bullets rained overhead. Her heart was hammering out of her chest as she glanced up through the thin layer of smoke that drifted through the air between her and the Peggies trying to advance on their location. Sharky was somewhere off to her left yelling obscenities and Boomer was snarling wildly as he stood protectively over her.

_What the fuck was happening?!_

Bishop would have anticipated this kind of attack once she was back in Holland Valley – to have it happening while still in Henbane territory caught her completely off guard. How did they know where to find her? Was this some sort of collaborative effort between Faith and John to take her down? After all John’s warnings about Faith and the Bliss, she wouldn’t believe such cooperation was possible between the two of them; John’s constant stream of chatter from her walkie seemed to support such a theory.

“-happening? Are you alright? _Anna, answer me_!”

“NOT NOW!” she snarled before clipped the radio back on her belt and giving herself both hands to use.

 _What I wouldn’t give for my .50 cal,_ she thought miserably as she holstered her pistol and unslung her assault rifle from her back.

It might not be too far away if John hadn’t thought to grab it – just somewhere over the river lost in the grass. She brushed such wistful thinking aside in favor of aiming her AK-M at the Peggies trying to unload from their trucks down the hill.

 _Calm down_ , she reminded herself as she sucked in a steadying breath and put her finger to the trigger.

She mowed down the first three that tried running straight for her; the next two had the sense to raise their weapons at her and she dove to take cover from their spray of bullets. Whether they were packing real heat or Bliss bullets she couldn’t say; for survival’s sake, she leaned towards actual lead and acted accordingly. Her eyes took in the sight of all the trucks that had pulled up to face them and compiled the numbers in her head.

_At least 4 trucks in front, probably more incoming…put at least 4 men in each truck, that’s looking at 16+…_

Stacked odds, but not impossible. She fired her AK-M at the legs of the two trying to rush her and sent them both crumbling to the dirt with cries of agony; as she trotted closer, she put a bullet in each of their heads so their noise wouldn’t distract her.

John’s voice was bothersome on the radio at her hip but she didn’t want to spare a precious second to silence it; instead, she grabbed for a grenade slung from her belt and yanked its pin out with her teeth and let it cook for a few seconds before tossing it in a graceful arch towards the pickups before her.

There were only moments for a handful of the Peggies to scramble out of the way before the explosion, the blast cooking at least 2 of the 4 trucks. There were several screams of agony that made the hair on her arms stand on end but she forced herself to ignore the dying moments of those Peggies in favor of shooting at the few trying to pick themselves up out of the dirt nearby.

Sharky had taken initiative to swoop in and start blasting the stragglers on the other side with his shotgun. Bishop heard Boomer’s snarls to her left and glanced his way to see more trucks coming around the bend.

“BEHIND,” she yelled, having learned before that clock position didn’t work as directions for Sharky to follow.

He followed her gaze and swung around to fire at the driver at the head of the pack, causing the truck to swerve to halt further back than intended. Bishop transferred her assault rifle to her left hand to reach for her Desert Eagle with her dominant, taking aim at the second truck still coming around. She watched as the driver reached for his own piece and waited until the last possible second to avoid him drawing before firing at him chest height; the echo of the shot broke the air like a sonic boom, bullet tearing through glass and metal like a hot knife through butter before connecting with flesh.

The driver coughed and keeled forward onto the steering wheel; his companion in the passenger seat was too slow to right the steering and the truck pitched onto its side violently. Boomer was racing towards the wreckage as a survivor crawled out the backseat and she turned her attention back to the truck Sharky was facing off with.

She fired the Desert Eagle again, bagging two with one bullet as it ripped through one man’s chest and went through the leg of the man he crouched beside. Paying no heed to his cry of pain, she glanced back at the sound of the surviving two pickups from the explosion revving their engines and throwing it in reverse.

Holstering the hand cannon, she levelled her AK-M and fired at them in a steady stream; she managed to catch one in the shoulder but nothing more as they bobbed and weaved downhill and out of range. She could only stare at them in confusion, wondering why they were retreating so easily.

The distant roar of an engine reached her ears…but she froze when she realized it didn’t belong to a car. Her eyes darted across the sky before catching sight of the approaching Chosen pilot.

_FUCK!_

They were hopelessly outgunned if that thing was going to turn its machine guns on them – or just skip the finesse and drop a bomb. Best case scenario, it was just trying to scare them towards more Peggies to overpower and take them into captivity. Worst case…they were turned into Swiss cheese or dust while they had no heavy artillery to retaliate with.

Neither option was particularly appealing – though she’d gladly take death over whatever horrors awaited in the Bliss.

Still, John was just over the border…there was a third door available, though it was the toughest to reach. If they could just get past Lorna’s Truck Stop, John and his men would only be hundreds of feet away. She’d much sooner take whatever he had planned over Faith’s still largely unknown intentions for her.

The devil you know…

“SHARKY!” she screamed. “GET TO THE VALLEY!”

He was still dealing with a dying Peggie further up the road and she watched him finish the man off with a solid blast from his shotgun to the chest. As she waved her arms trying to get his attention, she caught sight of the plane cutting a steep turn to head straight for them.

_Shit shit SHIT!_

“SHARKY!” she yelled again, already sprinting towards him. “MOVE!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the plane making a beeline straight for them and realized there was no way she’d make it to Sharky in time. There was no machine gunfire and she felt a thrill of panic seize her: there was only one other potential reason for that…

 _Sharky, Boomer - I’m sorry_ , she thought pitifully.

The bottom hatch dropped open and she prepared for the inevitable, still making a mad dash for Sharky to be with him in the end. But the liquid that spilled forth caught her off guard and she could only stare in fascination as it was dumped from the belly of the plane.

_…Water?_

No, it wasn’t water…only too late did she take in its greenish color and realized what was unfolding.

“Oh, FUCK-”

The Bliss hit the ground and immediately tinged the air in a sickly green hue, the air as thick as pea soup. It was like a tsunami wave, rising up and surging as it followed the path of the plane’s dispersal. She was within 15 feet of Sharky when it overtook her, practically swallowing her whole.

Everything was suffocating and blinding; Bishop coughed, trying to not breathe in the fumes through lungs that were desperate for air. Her eyes were tearing up as her vision went blurry, unable to even see her hand clearly in front of her. She fell to her knees as she hacked and was forced to gulp down the noxious air to breathe.

Her lungs burned in protest but she had no clean air to give them. After a few moments, the savage sting of the Bliss subsided and she was able to breathe evenly again, taking in deep steadying breaths. From elsewhere, she could hear Boomer yelping frantically but she couldn’t place where he was, his barks echoing all around her head.

“Dep! DEP!” she could hear Sharky distantly. “Where are ya?”

Bishop sluggishly pushed herself up out of the dirt, trying not to crash straight back down to her knees as she swayed unsteadily. Her vision was hazy and shimmering, too fueled by Bliss to make sense of anything that she was seeing.

“Sharky…,” she slurred, unable to yell.

As she tried listening for the sound of his voice to guide her path, she caught wind of beautiful singing instead. Turning in the direction of the angelic tune, she found herself looking at Faith Seed standing in the distance; humming gently, she merely watched Bishop with steady, warm eyes, waiting to see what she’d do.

Bishop stared at her a long moment, barely catching Sharky’s latest attempt to call her name and find her; before she knew it, she was trudging through the thick grass towards Faith. The woman in white smiled encouragingly at her, eyes filled with delight as she drew closer. She extended a hand out towards Bishop and the deputy didn’t hesitate in accepting it.

“I’m so glad you came,” Faith whispered happily.

Bishop could only smile back, mind wiped clean of all other thoughts as she was gently pulled along behind Faith into the suddenly bright light emerging from out of the green haze.

* * *

 

He should have known things were going too well.

Anna had been so close to Holland Valley – within 3 miles at least. John was already waiting by Holland Valley Station when he radioed in to taunt her one last time. She had answered immediately, sounding as enraged as she had hours before when he’d goaded her into coming to meet him in the first place.

 _Perfect_ , he had thought triumphantly. _When she’s blinded by Wrath, she’s got a one track mind._

He needed her focused on crossing the Henbane and into his territory. A half dozen men waited camouflaged in the tree line, armed to the teeth with Bliss bullets; he didn’t imagine he could talk her down when she was so fired up and had planned accordingly.

And then all hell had broken loose.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: hearing it unfold on her end of the frequency or being able to hear it echoing through the air towards him from seemingly just out of sight. Fingers clenching around his radio, he could only listen on fretfully and pray for good fortune.

 _You just have to make it up the road,_ he begged. _C’mon, Anna –put that Wrath to good use…_

Wishing for the demise of any of the Project’s members was abhorrent – but they were Faith’s men, not his, and they threatened his deputy by doing her bidding. And he was absolutely certain that Faith had a hand in what was currently transpiring; the sight of the plane flying overhead made his gut turn as he realized just how organized such an attack was and knew his sister had to have known just when and where to intervene. He felt his blood boiling over at the thought of her keeping tabs on Anna and seeing her running towards Holland Valley and deciding to step in.

When the gunfire gradually died off, a troubling silence seemed to settle across the land; John stared off into the distance for any sign of Project members or Anna and Boshaw (as he was sure would be in tow…) before bringing his walkie back up to his face.

“Anna?” he demanded. “Anna, answer me!”

Silence.

_For fuck’s sake!_

He gripped his rifle tighter as he set off for the bridge, not bothering to see if his men were falling in line (as he knew they would be). Anna was just a stone’s throw away – he could be in and out before anyone even took notice of his presence and claim he found her fleeing over the border when he caught her. And if anyone was still alive and by her side…well, he’d deal with that when he got there.

John hadn’t even made it halfway over the bridge leading to Lorna’s Truck Stop before white Peggie trucks began barreling down the road towards him, sliding to a halt just feet from the other side. He grit his teeth as he realized they were forming a blockade of sorts and felt his anger rising to new heights.

Not pausing in his stride, he stalked across the bridge towards the three men who unloaded from the nearest truck and stepped forward to meet him.

“Brother John,” they called respectfully. “You’re a long way from home.”

“I’m still in the Valley,” he taunted as he drew closer. “So not too far.”

The lead man only smiled at him knowingly.

“Faith can’t help but wonder what would drag you so close to the border except for trouble and had us come to meet you and offer assistance.”

John practically saw red: _he knew it!_ This had Faith’s dirty fingerprints all over it!

“She says: don’t worry about the Deputy,” the man offered up casually. “She’s handled.”

“Is that so?” John challenged. “Cause from the sound of that Desert Eagle, she’s holding her own.”

The men all exchanged smug looks and John knew immediately there was something else at play. As he took several steps closer, they pressed together to stand firm against him.

“You’re overstepping your bounds,” the head man spoke again. “Please return home.”

“And what will you do if I don’t?” he demanded viciously, his gait gaining menace.

He watched in satisfaction as they lost their superior expressions and looked worried in the face of his wrath. They didn’t dare reach for the pistols at their sides but still looked warily at his AK-47 as he tapped the barrel idly.

“She’s being brought to Joseph.”

That stopped him dead in his tracks.

“What?” he said, certain he heard wrong.

“Faith is bringing the Deputy to Joseph,” the man repeated. “There’s no need for you to fear. Go home.”

John’s mind raced with the implications of such a statement. The only way Anna could be brought before Joseph was subdued – much as she had been at the Cleansing, made largely docile by Bliss. But even then she had remained defiant: she was a key instigator in the firefight that had transpired shortly thereafter, he knew, and she had still been under the effects of Bliss.

To appear before Joseph….she’d have to be heavily drugged; Faith would never resort to tying someone up or caging them as John and Jacob did. Bliss was unlike anything he’d ever experimented with back in his college days – you went too far with it, there was no coming back. And Anna was already exposed to so much of it…

Had it just been Faith and her men, he would have pushed past them and gone the mile or two forward into his sister’s territory to snatch Anna back without question. But to know that Joseph was involved…it meant John could do nothing. As he was forced to stand there, helpless and fuming, he stared into the distance where Anna was most likely being led away to meet the Father and could only pray that Joseph’s plans for her overlapped with his own.

* * *

 

_One moment, Bishop was viewing a scene of Armageddon with Joseph Seed. The next, she was jolting awake in a wooden chair_

_“…Wh-what?” she started to ask before her eyes caught sight of a familiar blanket across the room._

_The soft, blue throw had been crocheted by her great-aunt decades ago and had lay draped across the leather sofa in the family room of her parents’ house for as long as she could remember. That very sofa still sat on the dingy area rug with the scotch stain on the corner – courtesy of a much younger Anna accidentally knocking her father’s glass out of his hand while he sat relaxing there after work._

_She was in her childhood home, exactly the way it had been almost 14 years ago: every piece of furniture, every quirk with a hidden story, all there on display. Her wide eyes slowly scanned the scenery, too consumed by disbelief to truly comprehend what she was seeing._

_“Whatcha gawking at, Annie girl?’ a familiar voice asked her, cutting through her stupor like a hot knife._

_Bishop whirled in disbelief to look at her father seated beside her. His green eyes were soft and teasing, crinkled at the corners to show his amusement. She could only stare, drinking in the sight of him before she was startled by an arm extending out in front of her, slipping a piece of toast onto the plate of breakfast food before her._

_“You know she can barely function before 10 AM – cut her a break,” her mother’s voice reached her._

_As Bishop’s startled eyes rose to take in the sight of her beautiful face, her mother turned and gave her a cheeky wink and smile before moving back towards the small kitchen tucked into the corner. Her gaze turned to track her mother’s movements before being distracted by soft whines and barks accompanied by light pressure on her leg. She caught sight of copper and white fur under the table before a dog’s head was placed in her lap, adoring eyes looking up into her face._

_“Charlie,” she said in wonder, reaching out to tentatively rub his ears._

_His fur was just as soft as she remembered – and he wiggled with the same enthusiasm and boundless energy he’d always carried. This was her childhood pet in his prime: from his days as her hunting and fishing companion, not as the chubby, elderly house dog she’d last seen him as living with their old neighbors, the Kleins, after she’d been forced into foster care._

How was any of this possible? _She wondered weakly, looking from her old dog to each of her parents in turn._

_Neither of them seemed changed in the least; they both went about their morning routines as they always had. Her father sat reading the newspaper, partly folded over so he could hold it one-handed while sipping from his coffee mug with the other. Her mother worked on breakfast for them all and would soon enough slip off to the bedroom to freshen up before her mid-morning shift at the local paper started._

_It was an established ritual they all had on mornings when they were home together; such days were few and far between with her father’s ever rotating schedule, but they were ones that Bishop had treasured the most. She was still having trouble grasping the fact that she was back here after all this time; a quick glance at herself confirmed she was still her 24 year old self, even if her parents looked like they hadn’t aged a day. Her eyes swept the kitchen and the opening into the family room, trying to make sense of just what was happening._

_It both was and wasn’t her childhood home. The furnishings were all right and the sturdy wooden walls held their family photos as they always had. But the carpet and tile floors were replaced by lush, green grass…and out through the window behind her father’s head she could catch sight of a familiar hazy green sky, sparkling and shimmering eerily._

_Something in the back of her mind was warning her of danger, but it was muted by a certain heaviness in her head that seemed to only increase the longer she stayed seated at the kitchen table with her parents._

_“Honey, what’s wrong?” Her mother asked with concern, drawing her gaze back to her. “You haven’t touched any of your food.”_

_“She knows this isn’t right,” another voice suddenly joined the conversation._

_Bishop nearly smacked her knees into the underside of the table as she jolted in her seat, gaze drawn to the individual seated directly across from her that she swore had not been there even a moment prior._

_Her eyes connected with John Seed’s in disbelief, taking in his calm and relaxed face as he smiled sadly at her. Wildly, she looked from him to both of her parents, wondering why they weren’t surprised or confused by his appearance in their home. When they showed no signs of alar – going about their business without batting a single eye to his presence - she focused her attention solely back on him._

_“You’re not supposed to be here,” he added gently._

He’s right _, some distant, groggy voice in her head supplied._ You can’t possibly be here.

_Some part of her knew that to be true…but she also realized this wasn’t a dream. Whatever she was experiencing now was somewhere in between both reality and illusion._

_A soft whine drew her gaze back to her knee. The head in her lap was no longer Charlie’s; however, it was just as familiar and loving. Boomer stared up at her woefully, crying softly to her. John reached for her hand across the table and turned it over in his own, large fingers easily spanning her wrist as he held it gently; she dragged her gaze away from Boomer to look back at him._

_“It’s time to leave,” he reminded her urgently._

_“Leave…?” she repeated slowly._

_As much as some part of her realized he was right – she_ had _to escape from this place – there was an overpowering desire to stay that only grew by the moment. Why should she go? The most important things in her life were all right here…what could possibly be outside that would tempt her to leave?_

_Her father suddenly turned to address her and she watched him raptly; his eyes were so sad that for a moment, she could barely breathe, feeling tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. But as he opened his mouth to speak, the voice that escaped was not his own – and it was calling her by a nickname he’d never given her._

_“Rook! ROOK!”_

* * *

 

Suddenly, she was very much awake and felt her limbs all thrashing erratically as she came back to herself. Bishop struggled to breathe, the air both trapped in her lungs and unable to enter them. Her heart was pounding so violently – so rapidly – it felt like it might burst from her chest at any moment.

 _This is hell_ , a voice supplied frantically in her mind. _Take me back! I want to go back!_

Hands were all over her, trying to hold her down; it only made her more frantic and she fought back as wildly as she could, lashing out at whatever she could get a hold of. Her fist connected solidly with someone; as she felt them recoil backwards, she tried throwing herself in the hole they left at her bedside. Just as quickly, the other hands upon her were grabbed her and forcing her back down.

“ROOK!” Sheriff Whitehorse’s voice bellowed once more. “STOP FIGHTING!!!”

Tracey suddenly appeared off to her left, raising a giant hypodermic needle over her head. Bishop’s eyes widened fearfully as she grabbed for the other woman’s wrist, stopping her from bringing it down into her chest just seconds before she connected. She stared at the syringe in Tracey’s hands, the only thing hyper-focused in her blurry vision aside from the blue butterflies swarming around her head.

“STOP FIGHTING!” Whitehorse urged again, reaching for her wrist to pin it down. “CALM DOWN!”

Easier said than done: all she wanted to do was fight and escape, fully prepped to lash out once more. But something finally connected in her brain: the Sheriff, Tracey, the jail…

She eased up on her struggle, trying to hold the Sheriff’s gaze as if it could anchor her to reality for even a few moments longer.

“Don’t fucking move! I need you calm and still!” she heard Tracey say before she brought the syringe down again in a powerful arch.

The air all rushed out of Bishop’s lungs as the needle sunk straight through her chest. Instantly, the butterflies exploded in her vision, the green edges fizzling away as everything went blurry before returning to sharp focus.

“That’s it!” Whitehorse’s voice was distant in her ears, deafened by the echoes of her thundering heartbeat even as it dropped to a normal rate. “Good…good.”

He gently eased her back against the cot she was lying upon; it finally dawned on her that she was in the improvised medical wing of the jail, her trembling fingers gripping the starchy bed cover beneath her. After a moment, another figure stumbled to her bedside and she caught sight of Sharky looking dazed and upset. She tried reaching for him with her unsteady fingers and he quickly grasped her hand in his; the stark contrast of their warm and cold skin touching left her feeling even more shaken than before.

“You’re lucky,” Tracey told her flatly. “Come out of the Bliss too fast…shit’s likely to scramble your brains.”

 _Did it not do that?_ She thought weakly to herself.

The pain was momentarily dulled by the adrenaline still coursing through her veins – she knew it would come back with a vengeance in a short while and dreaded the inevitable crash. She didn’t want to spend a second more dwelling on the reality of a needle being forced directly into her heart and forced her eyes up on the ceiling as Tracey moved to force her shirt up and press a bandage to her sternum.

As Tracey forced her sleeve up and swabbed her arm and prepared an injection site for a saline drip, Bishop felt a sigh force its way out and realized just how physically exhausted she felt.

“I…,” she finally croaked out, “fucking hate…IVs.”

Tracey cracked a genuine smile her way and Bishop was swiftly reminded just how beautiful she was.

“Level out and then we’ll talk,” she said as she started the drip.

Bishop let her head fall back against the thin, lumpy excuse of a pillow and felt everything growing heavy. She was exhausted but the adrenaline still spiked in her veins left her unable to close her eyes just yet. Her focus lay solely on the ceiling above her, back to looking semi-blurry, and her hand in Sharky’s. It was becoming hard to tell if the shaking of their interlaced fingers was her doing, his doing, or a combination of both.

She didn’t have the energy or strength to try and physically comfort him or speak any consoling words. Sharky would understand; he was unspeakably quiet and she had a feeling he was still reeling from the spectacle that had just taken place.

She herself was only just now recovering from the shock of being torn from the Bliss; that had to have been where she still was when she’d had that vision of her parents and John. It had felt so real, so warm and familiar…even if it wasn’t reality, it felt like a gut punch to have been ripped from it so suddenly.

Forcing her eyes shut, she concentrated on the distant chatter of Virgil through the wall behind her and the sound of Tracey stomping off towards the reception desk and tried not to dwell on the brief feeling of complete happiness she’d experienced in that hallucination, feeling her heart rending in two at the reminder of the impossibility of such a scenario.

* * *

 

 

"She floats like a swan   
Grace on the water   
Lips like sugar   
Lips like sugar   
Just when you think you've caught her   
She glides across the water   
She calls for you tonight   
To share this moonlight   
  
You'll flow down her river   
She'll ask and you'll give her   
Lips like sugar   
Sugar kisses   
Lips like sugar   
Sugar kisses   
  
She knows what she knows   
I know what she's thinking   
Sugar kisses   
Sugar kisses   
Just when you think she's yours   
She's flown to other shores   
To laugh at how you break   
And melt into this lake   
  
You'll flow down her river   
But you'll never give her   
Lips like sugar   
Sugar kisses   
Lips like sugar   
Sugar kisses "

 

_Lips Like Sugar, Echo & The Bunnymen_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that got emotionally draining for me there, haha. I had a random thought about what one could see and experience in the Bliss that could make them want to stay forever and I had the heartbreaking thought that the only thing that could tempt Anna would be her old life.  
> As much fun as I have writing for Faith, I'm getting antsy to get out of the Henbane River and back to Holland Valley so I promise it's not too far in the distant future! Poor John...guy can't catch a break! I promise I will cut him some slack in a bit, haha  
> Many thanks, as always, to everyone who left comments and kudos! <3 I appreciate every bit of support and encouragement shared with me - it means so very much <3 <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

“NO! Absolutely not!”

“But he’s going nuts outside –

“There are empty cells he can stay in for the time being!”

“Look, he’s not someone you negotiate with! Only the Deputy can control him and he’s not gonna be happy until he’s with her!”

“This is a HOSPITAL wing! We need it sanitary and-”

“Oh come on, Virgil,” Tracey finally cut in, a smile on her face. “Let the dog stay.”

Sharky stood between her and the frazzled mayor, just barely holding Boomer at bay from Bishop’s bedside by his collar. Bishop, for her part, was sleepily reaching out towards her dog and waiting for him to break free and come charging into her arms. Virgil watched Boomer struggling to reach her, rasping as his collar choked into his neck, before sighing and throwing his hands up in surrender.

Sharky took that as the cue to release Boomer; the dog wasted no time in sailing up onto the cot with Bishop, covering her with sloppy kisses as he whined shrilly and wagged his tail. Making sure to keep the IV cord out of his reach, she rubbed him fondly and murmured soft consolations to him.

Virgil shuffled out of the hospital wing, shaking his head, while Tracey stepped closer to check on her empty drip.

“How ya feelin’, champ?” she asked.

“Less like a vegetable,” Bishop conceded from through Boomer’s fur.

“Then how ‘bout we take this out?” Tracey said, rubbing the line between her fingers.

“ _Please_ ,” Bishop practically begged, stretching out her arm towards her.

Tracey chuckled softly before removing the needle and re-bandaging the injection site. Bishop flexed her arm with a grimace, trying to ignore the soreness as she worked out the kink that had formed in her shoulder from immobilization. Tracey reached out to let Boomer sniff her hand in the interim, rubbing his ears when he’d finished.

“Good looking dog,” she said with a smile. “Wasn’t he some kind of champion?”

“Gun dog, few years back,” Bishop answered. “I haven’t had the chance to take him out and see what he’s got – not too much time for hunting with the way things have been going for me…”

She hadn’t hunted for sport in well over a decade – it had always been just part of the job when she was a tracker, and not something she took too much pleasure in (it was just business, after all). For Boomer, however, she’d pick it up again. Her old dog, Charlie, had been an excellent bird dog…probably didn’t have anything on Boomer, however. But the memories she’d had of him rushing to collect the duck or geese she and her father hunted were ones she looked back upon fondly.

“Let me see what I can scrounge up for him to eat,” Tracey said as she headed in the direction of the cellblock.

Bishop called out a “thanks” before settling back against the pillows as Sharky pulled his chair closer to her bedside.

“How ya doing, Dep?” Sharky asked cautiously.

He must have known she was posturing for Tracey and Virgil just then; the truth was she was still exhausted and feeling off. Her vision was back to normal – there were no green edges to it or butterflies fluttering around the room anymore – but her head still felt wrong, like her mind wasn’t fully back in control just yet.

“I’ve been better,” she acknowledged finally.

“They went full Pulp Fiction on your ass,” Sharky noted. “Though it was way cooler when it happened in the movie. Watching someone ram a needle into your best friend’s heart…is not really cool at all. It was actually pretty fucking scary…”

She felt her mouth twitch in the makings of a sad smile; wordlessly, she reached out for his hand again and caught his wrist in her fingers, rubbing him gently with her thumb.

“Sorry to worry you,” she murmured softly.

His eyes were sad and warm as he looked back into her face.

“Just…let’s not go through this again, okay?” he begged. “I can’t stand to see you like that again…”

Her eyes softened with affection for him.

“I’ll try my best,” she promised.

They lapsed back into silence that felt charged with emotion and angst. Her eyes wandered his face and settled on the bruise blossoming there.

“What happened…?” she started to say before vaguely gesturing towards his jaw.

Sharky blinked at her before giving a jaded smile.

“Don’t remember doing that, huh?” he asked. “You, uh, socked me…When I tried to help hold you down…when they were giving you the adrenaline.”

She only had a vague recollection of her hand connecting with someone during that time; still, she felt mortified almost instantly, realizing she’d inadvertently hurt him in her confusion.

“Jesus,” she said mournfully. “Sharky…I’m so sorry. I’m-”

“It’s alright, Dep,” he assured her quickly. “You were so far gone…it’s a wonder they were even able to pull you out in the first place. That was like an OD just then. You got lucky.”

Sighing heavily, she rolled onto her back to stare listlessly up at the ceiling.

“I keep saying it: luck eventually runs out,” she said. “I just hope it’s not against Faith…”

She didn’t want to spend another second thinking about Sister Seed just yet. John had been right all along about her – he clearly hadn’t spoken a single lie about what she was capable of. And like a fool, she’d only partially heeded his warnings. Look where it had gotten her now…

Bishop chanced a glance over at Sharky, watching him make faces as he tried to get comfortable in the stiff –backed chair he was in.

“Do you…do you think you could find me some water? And something to eat?” she asked quietly.

Sharky stared at her, blinking owlishly for a moment, before his mind finally processed her words

“Oh, yeah! Sure thing, Dep! I’ll see what I can do!” he assured her quickly, knocking into the bedside table in his haste to leap to his feet.

She gave him a weak smile as she watched him go, eyes following his trail all the way out of the infirmary wing. When the door swung shut, she finally reached for the walkie stowed under her bed and brought it up to her face, chancing a glance around to make sure no one was within earshot. Her fingers only hesitated briefly before cranking it to a familiar channel and pushing the button to talk.

“John?” she asked softly. “You there…?”

“Anna!”

The urgency in his tone surprised her – and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t delight her a bit as well.

“How are you? Are you alright?” he demanded.

She considered his words for a moment, feeling unspeakably tired again.

“Define alright,” she finally said flatly.

There was a heavy silence that fell between them that Bishop didn’t have time for.

“I didn’t make our meeting,” she reminded him tiredly. “I got caught up in something else.”

“I know.”

“Oh? Well, I didn’t want you to think I was wussing out or anything,” she said. “I was ready to come throw down.”

“I have no doubt you were.”

She didn’t miss the fondness in his tone; her stomach filled with butterflies again as she buried her face in Boomer’s fur to hide her smile.

“You were deep in the Bliss…,” John ventured carefully. “How are you recovering from it?”

Her eyes slipped shut as she desperately tried to bury the memories of her time with Joseph and the illusion of her time with her family.

“I had a needle full of adrenaline rammed straight into my heart to sort me out,” she told him. “So there’s that…”

She didn’t have to hear him speak or even see his face to recognize the tension that second silence held. It had seemed she had upset him with the truth…well, he was owed that much, no matter how painful it was.

“Y’know, I was pissed at you before all _this_ ,” she told him earnestly. “I was fully ready to show up and start beating the shit out of you…”

She sighed heavily, feeling it sap some of her remaining energy and leaving her eyelids heavy.

“Now…your sister has replaced you as the person I’m most currently mad at,” she added after a moment.

“How fortunate for me.”

She couldn’t help but smile at his words, stroking Boomer’s head softly.

“You’re still an asshole,” she reminded him quickly. “But I guess I don’t need to come beat the hell out of you anymore.”

“Don’t _need_ to?”

“…Don’t _want_ to,” she acknowledged. “I’m too tired for anything like that…”

“Anna, please, stay where you are,” John pleaded. “The jail is the safest place for you out there.”

“For the moment, I have no plans on going anywhere,” she confided, rubbing her eye with the back of her hand. “I don’t think I have it in me right now.”

“Get some rest,” he urged her. “Put down the radio and just level out some more.”

“Eager to be rid of me?” she asked teasingly. “That’s a first. You may have hurt my feelings.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to talk later,” he said with amusement. “Try and sleep now.”

She sighed softly, feeling her exhaustion creeping back up on her.

“Alright,” she conceded. “…goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”

Cranking her radio off, she shoved it back under the cot and settled back against the pillows as comfortably as she could. Boomer cuddled closer, laying his head against her chest; she ran her fingers idly between his ears, petting him softly as she felt her eyelids growing heavy again.

By the time Sharky managed to stumble back into the infirmary with food and drink, she was already fast asleep.

* * *

 

“Good to see you up, Rook.”

Bishop looked up from lacing her boots to see the Sheriff standing at the foot of her bed, looking down at Boomer curiously.

“Getting antsy being off my feet for so long, sir,” she replied.

It hadn’t actually been all that long – she had only been back at the jail for a day and a half now. But it felt like an eternity after having no time at all to rest or relax since the start of the whole conflict. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was trapped in bed by a slew of visitors streaming in to see her. Hannah and her parents, Laura, and Trish were welcome sights and she had enjoyed her time with them…but the random civilians and fighters coming in to get a glimpse of her made her uncomfortable.

Most of them were just there to personally thank her for all she had done for the county thus far, or to offer condolences and inquire after her health. Others…others had come in with requests for help and she was forced to sit and listen to the horrible tragedies that had befallen them and their families and promise to do what she could for them.

It mentally exhausted her, but it also reminded her that sitting with her feet up wasn’t doing anyone any good and had resolved to set out once more the second she was back to a modicum of normalcy. Sharky had already been sent off to enquire about borrowing a vehicle – since she didn’t dare set out on foot again just yet – and she set about readying herself for another day of fighting Peggies.

“Just take care of yourself out there,” Whitehorse said, letting Boomer sniff his hand before rubbing his head. “I know you don’t need to be reminded of the danger that lurks out in the open.”

“Will do, sir.”

Whitehorse moved on towards the beds down towards the end of the room, where injured fighters had been brought in earlier that day, leaving Bishop to finish assembling her gear. She was only alone for a minute longer before Tracey entered the infirmary and made a beeline straight for her.

“How you feeling, Rook?” she asked.

“Better,” she answered as she holstered both pistols on either thigh.

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

That gave her pause; she looked up at Tracey curiously, taking in the seriousness of her face.

“Then I’m not sure I follow…”

“I know what happens to people who get taken into the Bliss,” Tracey offered up quietly. “And even the strongest have a hard time shaking themselves from it.”

Bishop shut her eyes for a moment, understanding now what she was getting at. When she forced them open again, she looked wearily back at Tracey and held her gaze.

“I still don’t really understand what I saw in there,” she said truthfully.

Sharky took that moment to reenter the hospital wing; he took stock of the tension between she and Tracey and wisely stood back to observe in silence.

“Supposedly, if you go too deep…it’s supposed to be a vision of paradise. Guess that’s different for every person, but it gives a glimpse of something you desperately want,” Tracey explained. “None of its real, but it feels like it is. People get lost in there because they either can’t see that it’s fake…or they just don’t care.”

Bishop let her mind drift back to the image she’d been so abruptly pulled from: a quiet morning spent with both her parents. She couldn’t even begin to guess how many dreams she had of such moments, how often she’d longed to return to those days over the years spent alone and miserable in foster care. It would have been so easy to let herself remain in that illusion forever…

Now she understood the terrifying reality of the Bliss and just how dangerous it truly was.

“You see why Faith is not to be underestimated,” Tracey continued bitterly. “She lures you in with that sweet, innocent flower child act…and then drugs you out of your mind until you can’t even question her bullshit anymore.”

Bishop didn’t need to be reminded of what Faith was capable of; she felt shame and embarrassment for falling prey so easily to the woman. It wasn’t wholly her fault…Bliss fucked with people’s minds and she knew that from firsthand experience now. But the knowledge still did little to assuage her wrath as she sat and simmered in hateful, dark thoughts.

Faith had used her – manipulated her – just like John and Tracey had warned her she would. Bishop had heard her sob story and sympathized enough to let her guard down...and Faith got inside her head and took advantage of her compassion; and if there was one thing she despised, it was people who exploited her desire to help and protect for their own selfish gains…

And the fact that Faith didn’t seem to care what became of Bishop, so long as it got her to stop resisting the cult, only made her that much angrier. She could have easily died…or worse, become an Angel.

She shivered helplessly at that thought. Death would be a better alternative than becoming one of those things – of that she was certain.

Faith thought she was triumphant, did she? Well, she may have gotten inside Bishop’s head...but she didn’t know a damn thing about her - or what she was capable of. A few blown up delivery trucks and some snatched outposts obviously didn’t paint a clear enough picture…that could easily be remedied.

“Sharky…how soon can you get a hold of your cousin?”

* * *

 

John sat wearily on the couch in the main room of Seed Ranch, eyes poring over the reports in front of him. Why he even bothered at this point, he didn’t know (though he kept that thought to himself); everything was going on schedule in Holland Valley for once. The Resistance in his territory merely clung to what ground they had and dug in, clearly wary of taking him head on after the sound beating his men had delivered to Fall’s End just days prior.

 _If their junior deputy was still around, she wouldn’t have hesitated to retaliate_ , he reflected miserably.

It was pitiful that he actually wanted her sabotaging his operations, he knew…but it would mean she was free of Faith and the Bliss and he could collect her again at his leisure so he indulged the fantasy. He hadn’t heard from her since she’d called him a day and a half ago; she’d sounded so subdued and tired that he could only hope she was safe within the walls of the jail and resting.

He had no doubt she’d ignore his plea to stay put, simply because she was Anna Bishop and he knew to expect her defying almost everything he asked of her. But that was truly the only place in Henbane territory that Faith had no influence over – the last true stronghold the Resistance had.

It was more secure than Fall’s End, yet not as elusive as the mysterious “Wolf’s Den” that supposedly housed the Whitetail Militia causing so much trouble up in Jacob’s lands; the fact that Jacob hadn’t found them yet spoke volumes of how organized they were up north and John felt grateful to only have Pastor Jerome and Mary Mary Fairgrave to contend with instead of Eli Palmer. If only Anna could make it to the Whitetails…but who could say whether Eli or Jacob would find her first? Jacob was his brother…but his methods were just as cruel and merciless as Faith’s and John shuddered to even think of sending Anna up into his turf.

As he tossed the stack of papers aside carelessly onto the coffee table in front of him, one of his men raced through the side door in front of him. He looked around wildly until he caught sight of John and hastened his way over.

“Sir! There’s terrible news from across the Henbane!”

More bad news was the last thing he needed; his mood was already at its lowest and he felt himself souring at the thought of any further developments adding to it.

“What is it?” he snapped tiredly.

“Sir…the statue…it’s gone.”

“Statue…?” John asked in confusion before it finally clicked and he lapsed into silence.

“The Father’s statue…it was destroyed,” the man needlessly explained. “There were explosions reported earlier and then visual confirmation of its destruction.”

John sat in quiet contemplation for a minute before realizing the man before him was waiting for a response. Blinking slowly, he thought over what to say.

“Thank you for informing me,” he settled for. “…the Father watches over us and protects us always. Nothing changes that – statue or not.”

The man immediately looked appeased, eyes brimming with respect and relief. John urged him out with the task or relaying his message to the others outside hearing the news themselves and watched him march in the direction of the hangar.

When the door shut behind the man and John was finally alone once more, he allowed himself to sink back into the couch. He was able to maintain composure for only a handful of seconds before he finally let forth the chuckle burning in his chest. It built into full blown laughter as he brought his hands to his face and ran them up and over his eyes, feeling light as air.

He should not be taking so much delight in this development, he knew; that monument meant so much to Joseph and the people of the Project. It had taken months to construct and backbreaking hard labor - they would absolutely be devastated by its demolition. But he couldn’t be happier in the face of such dreadful news: it meant Anna was back in action! She had recovered enough from her near-disastrous encounter in the Bliss to be out causing mayhem for the Project as she normally did.

But most importantly, it meant she was still adamantly and openly defying Faith. After all his sister’s boasting and taunting, there was finally the much needed proof that she couldn’t win her over. Anna would never submit to Faith – he’d always known it and now Faith would be forced to acknowledge her failure. Joseph would come down on her for her shortcomings and John delighted in her finally taking a fall in his brother’s eyes.

After the mirth had finally drained from his chest, he felt his brow furrow with concern as he quickly realized what even greater danger Anna was in. Faith would turn up the heat, desperate to appease Joseph and prove she could handle the deputy on her own. Bliss already ran rampant in the Henbane…and it was assuredly about to get so much worse.

Anna had barely survived her last trip into the Bliss: even a single submersion more could spell her undoing. And John was running out of options to get her back before that could happen.

Faith wouldn’t let Anna leave the Henbane and return to Holland Valley – and despite the danger, he was almost tempted to advise her to run for the Whitetail Mountains, up into Jacob’s territory. But knew that would most likely be thwarted by his sister and her cronies…

Joseph was the only reason he refrained from sprinting straight into Faith’s territory and snatching Anna right out from under her nose. He had begged and pleaded for his brother to understand – to see – that the deputy was supposed to be with him, that he would be the one to bring her into the fold.

He could very well make a case against Faith to Joseph – her Bliss strategy had failed miserably. If he could just convince his brother that he’d almost had the deputy…

There was no convincing John otherwise – he _had_ almost had her. It was apparent in her eyes that she was beginning to feel the same way he did; all it would have taken was one more little push to make her truly understand. The untimely fluke the Resistance pulled in raiding his bunker and snatching her back was the only reason she wasn’t with him now.

Joseph had to see that – he had to realize that the only surefire way to succeed with Anna was through John.

He was on his feet before he realized it, heading straight for the CB setup in his office to reach out to his brother.   

* * *

 

“Man, Deputy, we should hang out more!” Hurk exclaimed, patting his rocket launcher fondly. “We been having so much fun together, why don’t we do this more often?”

“There’s only one giant statue of a cult leader around these parts,” she reminded him with a smirk as she loaded more bullets into her Desert Eagle.

Truth be told, Hurk was a bit much – especially paired together with Sharky. He had a tendency to attract more attention than she wanted while trekking the breadth of Hope County…the element of surprise was generally lost whenever Hurk Drubman was on the scene.

Fortunately, she hadn’t wanted or needed stealth in their latest endeavor and he was exactly the wild card they’d needed. It was immensely satisfying to watch the giant monolith of Joseph blasted to pieces bit by bit. Hurk took on the majority of the heavy lifting, using his rocket launcher to send chunks of concrete and stone raining down upon them as Sharky, Bishop, and Boomer held the Peggie forces back trying to respond in time.

Hurk had even let her fire the finishing blow; she was rocked by the force of the shot but kept her footing, prepared from the years of conditioning to the recoil of a shotgun and rifle and more recently of the Desert Eagle’s monster kickback. Knocking Joseph’s head clean off and having its pieces careen down towards the Peggies below was an added bonus that left her feeling better than she had in days.

She’d left Hurk, Sharky, and Boomer below as she scaled the remaining metal skeleton of the monstrosity and had followed Tracey’s lead to the “Book of Joseph” at the very top. Lighting that accursed book on fire and tossing it hundreds of feet below to its demise was just the cherry on top of an otherwise successful mission. It was almost ruined by Faith’s frantic voice in her ear, chastising her fearfully, but she wisely kept that incident to herself and joined Sharky and Hurk in celebrating their accomplishments all the way back down the mountain.

Rather than stay miffed at Faith’s interruption of what should have been a wholly triumphant moment, she talked Hurk and Sharky into causing a little more mayhem before calling it a day. It wasn’t hard to convince them to join her and soon enough they were barreling towards Sacred Skies Youth Camp and rolling in guns blazing.

The Peggies there hadn’t stood a chance. Within a minute of arrival, Hurk had blown up their vehicle transports and Sharky had lit their crops of Bliss flowers ablaze. Bishop and Boomer had used the distraction to take care of some of the stunned, frantic stragglers within the main administration building before shepherding the rest out for the two cousins to clean up. By the time the Resistance forces had gotten word from Dutch to head to the campgrounds immediately, Hurk, Sharky, and Bishop were already a few beers deep, sitting around the smoldering remains of a pickup as an impromptu campfire.

After the outpost had been officially handed off to the Resistance, the party led back to Boshaw Manor, where they’d all crashed for the night and now lounged about kicking back cold beer and checking over their gear. Well, at least Bishop was…Hurk had his rocket launcher propped on the couch beside him and Sharky had flung his shotgun on the counter without a second thought when they’d arrived.

Bishop was halfway through a fourth beer and feeling great, head woozy from liquor instead of Bliss for once; it was easy to put Faith and Joseph and even John out of her mind and just focus on the here and now…which currently consisted of Sharky sprinting back inside from his bunker, tripping on the pile of empty beer cans littering the floor, and almost sacrificing the fresh beers in his hand to save himself.

Hurk burst into hysterics and Bishop soon followed suit, too lightheaded to think to ask if he was okay for another 15 seconds. She wasn’t too far gone, however, to not recognize the contents of the baggie in Sharky’s grasp that he brandished at them with a grin.

“You’re some kind of ballsy to be whipping out weed in front of a cop, Boshaw,” she teased him.

“Nah, you’re a cool cop – remember you said you wouldn’t bust me for it?” he reminded her.

“So I did,” she conceded as she holstered the Desert Eagle laying out before her on the coffee table, having caught Hurk eyeing it with far too much interest.

She moved to take a seat on the couch and Sharky slipped into the space between her and Hurk before working on rolling a joint right where she was attempting to prop her feet up. Disgruntled, she draped her legs over the sofa’s arm and took another sip of her beer.

“Alright, amigos!” Hurk said, sitting up straighter. “All members of Hurk’s Gate are present and accounted for! Now the four pillars of our cult are: drinking, partying, guns, and women. We’ve got the drinking and the guns and the partying all squared away…now we need to work on finding some mega fine ladies to bring up in here!”

He seemed to suddenly remember Bishop and blinked at her as she just stared back in amusement.

“Oh, shit! I mean, if you’re into women, that’s awesome and we’ll hook you up! But if you’re looking for a dude, we could find someone for ya. He’s just gotta be cool, and chill, and has to respect my authority as cult leader.”

“That’s alright, Hurk,” she assured him. “I’m not looking for anybody right now…”

“What?!” he demanded in shock. “What the hell’s that mean? There’s gotta be somebody out there-”

She did _not_ want to get into the semantics of that with Hurk.

“It just means things are a little crazy right now,” she explained quickly. “Maybe when things have cooled down a bit…”

“Ahhhh, okay, I see where you’re coming from!” Hurk agreed and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Respectable, I will allow it.”

She didn’t dare look towards Sharky, who she could feel side-eyeing her as he continued rolling his joint. Hurk turned to his cousin and nudged him roughly.

“What about you, cuz?” he asked. “Any particular chicas you’re partial to?”

“Uh…,” Sharky said as he went rigid. “I, uh, I…”

“Oh shit!” Hurk seemed to realize, looking plainly over at Bishop. “Oh shit, _that’s right,_ I forgot!”

Bishop pretended not to comprehend what she was hearing and focused on chugging the rest of her beer. Crushing it with her hand, she tossed the can into the ever growing pile by the door and nudged Hurk around Sharky.

“Pass me another one,” she told him, trying to diffuse the situation.

Hurk did as she asked, grabbing himself one as well.

“Well, you both are allowed temporary vows of celibacy, but that shit changes in the future!” he warned them. “Hurk’s Gate isn’t gonna be complete until fucking is right up there with fighting and getting wasted!”

He seemed to consider something for a second before casting a sidelong glance towards Bishop.

“Deputy, you’re close with Miss Armstrong, are you not?” Hurk asked heavy-handedly. “If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like you to put in a good word for me with her. And I am asking this as your cult leader, so keep that in mind as well. Though it’s still totally your decision whether you want to or not...I’m just letting you know it would earn you brownie points if you did, is all…”

Bishop worked to hide her snickering under the hand holding her beer. It was hard to keep anything close to a straight face as she looked over at him.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she told him with a grin.

“Ex-cell-ente,” he said happily as he popped open the tab of his beer. 

“Alright,” Sharky said excitedly, holding up the doobie. “We are locked and loaded!”

He turned towards Bishop who merely raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’re you looking at me for?” she demanded.

He merely grinned waving the joint at her.

“You’re taking the first hit!”

“The fuck I am!” she replied with a laugh.

“C’mon, Dep! Live a little!” he insisted.

“Get that out of my face,” she said as she pushed his hand away, a smile still on her lips.

“Deputy, Hurk’s Gate is all about making poor decisions,” Hurk reminded her. “And we put emphasis on peer pressure to make members bow to the whims of the majority. C’mon, take a hit!”

“No!” she laughed, pushing herself far away from either of them.

It was almost impossible to hear the crackle of her radio on the kitchen counter over Sharky and Hurk’s collective chatter; she seized the opportunity to leap to her feet, swaying a moment as she did before grabbing it and bringing it to her face.

“Bishop here. Over.”

“Deputy,” Dutch’s voice greeted her, sounding taken aback and she realized she had spoken far too close and too loudly into the receiver. “How ya holding up?”

“Alright,” she told him. “We’ve accomplished a lot in a very short amount of time…”

“So I’ve heard,” he said; she didn’t miss the almost fond tone he used. “Glad that fucking eyesore of a statue is history. And good work on Sacred Skies.”

She merely nodded her head, half listening to him and half listening to Sharky and Hurk arguing over the blunt behind her.

“Listen, kid…,” Dutch said hesitantly. “The Sheriff reached out to me to contact you.”

Bishop sat up straighter, realizing even through her buzz that something was off.

“What’s happened?” she demanded. “Is everything alright?”

“For the moment,” Dutch said cryptically. “It’s better if you get on back to the jail as soon as you can and  talk to your boss face to face.”

“Alright,” she agreed, reaching for her assault rifle propped up against the wall. “I’ll head out now.”

Sharky elbowed Hurk to get him to shut up as he caught onto the sudden shift in Bishop’s mood.

“What’s up, Dep?” he asked.

“Dunno,” she said honestly, slinging her gun across her back. “But I’m needed back at the jail.”

“Right now?” Hurk asked incredulously. “We only just started rocking it here!”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want,” Bishop told him. “Either of you. I can take Boomer and-”

“Nope!” Sharky cut in quickly as he pushed himself up onto his feet. “I’m with you.”

“…well, as cult leader, I suppose I must make the executive decisions here. And I have decided we will all go to the jail,” he said forcefully. “There might be some foxy ladies there looking to join up, who knows?”

* * *

 

Their caravan rolled up to the jail not even a half hour later and Bishop was confused but relieved to see nothing out of the ordinary from outside the walls. As she led the way into the heart of the jail - Boomer, Hurk, and Sharky trailing in behind her – she glanced around, brow furrowing at the lack of any real sign of trouble.

Why had Dutch made his call so ominous and foreboding…?

The woman behind the counter of the ammo stash pointed her towards the cellblock when Bishop asked after the Sheriff; she spotted him not too far into the midst of people crowded around the planning tables set out in the center of the room. He looked up as she drew closer and immediately excused himself to approach her.

“Rook, how you doing?” he asked conversationally.

“Alright, sir,” she answered. “Though I must admit…I’m a little confused as to why I was summoned back here so urgently.”

The Sheriff’s face fell and she felt her stomach twist with unease.

“Let’s talk someplace else, alright?” he said and she merely nodded in agreement.

He led the way back towards the hospital wing, not bothering to check and see if she fell in line behind him. Bishop glanced over at Sharky and Hurk, chattering excitedly with a group of women – that, to her amusement included an exasperated Trish – before deeming them occupied and leaving them to their own devices as she followed the Sheriff out.

Tracey and Virgil were already in the infirmary talking to each other when they arrived; the pair looked up and caught sight of Bishop and the atmosphere changed instantly. Bishop felt alarm starting to build at the sudden harshness in Tracey’s face as she glared at the Sheriff; Virgil’s shifty glances between everyone wasn’t helping much either.

“What’s going on…?” she asked tentatively.

“Rook…I’m not gonna beat around the bush. I need to ask something of you,” the Sheriff said gravely. “Something big.”

“I’m listening, sir,” she said warily.

“Since the destruction of that statue-”

“-which was long overdue.”

“-which was long overdue,” the Sheriff agreed with Tracey’s interruption. “But since it fell…the mist has risen out here. Bliss production seems to have been ramped up tenfold…it’s everywhere now, Rook.”

Bishop’s eyes widened in concern. Bliss had already seemed to be so widespread…to know its reach was only spreading…

“Not only that,” Whitehorse’s voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her attention back to him, “but there’s been more sightings of Burke out in the thick of it…”

“The Marshal?” she asked in surprise.

She’d seen him twice now – or thought she’d seen him, at least – in her excursions into the Bliss with Faith. Where he came from or where he went after was a mystery to her; all she knew was that he was always by Faith’s side. She still remembered seeing the video broadcast of him put out onto the TVs where he’d pinned all the blame on the botched arrest of Joseph squarely on her shoulders…how she had stood there positively shaking with rage. Sharky had stood behind her silently as she destroyed the television set in front of her, smashing the screen through with the butt of her rifle and then kicking the rest of it to pieces.

“Rook…you know by now what happens when you take in too much Bliss,” the Sheriff continued. “Burke’s been submerged for who knows how long…and we don’t know just how much he’s been subjected to. He might not have long left.”

“He’s too far gone,” Tracey insisted. “He’s been in the Bliss for ages – no one who’s in there that long ever comes out the same.”

“But if he _can_ be saved,” Virgil said diplomatically. “We should be trying to help him with every chance we’ve got.”

“Unfortunately,” Whitehorse picked up for him, looking pointedly at Bishop, “Faith keeps him close by at all times…it’s not possible for anyone to get close enough to her to get to him.”

Bishop wasn’t naïve or stupid – she could guess where this was heading.

“What I’m getting…is you want _me_ to go back into the Bliss,” she said slowly, gaze steady on the ceiling.

That was the _last_ thing she wanted to do; she’d barely made it out alive last time. Her plans had been to rile up Faith enough to make her mad and then hightail it to the Whitetail Mountains or back to Holland Valley – the same strategy she had employed against John not so long ago.

“I know this is an awful lot to ask, Rook…,” the Sheriff said slowly. “But you’re the only shot the Marshal’s got.”

Bishop had conflicted feelings towards Cameron Burke. On one hand, the Marshal had abandoned her – _twice._ She was still smarting from that sense of betrayal and it made her eyes narrow anytime his name got brought up. But on the other hand…he didn’t deserve what had been done to him; whatever drugged up state he wandered around in now was inhumane.

“What do you need me to do?” she asked tiredly.

“Faith’s taken a shine to you,” he continued. “And she’s already gonna keep trying to drag you back into the Bliss…”

“This is a bad fucking idea!” Tracey cut in again, anger boiling to the surface as she kicked the cart at her feet. “You are taking a huge fucking risk! For someone who isn’t even worth it!”

“The Marshal didn’t ask for this,” the Sheriff told her sternly. “And we do not leave men behind.”

He turned back to Bishop and some of the fire left his eyes, replaced with grave concern.

“There _is_ terrible risk involved, Rook,” he told her. “But we’re at the end of our line here. You’re the Marshal’s only hope.”

_That was the second loaded sentence he's delivered in thirty seconds…way to lay it on thick..._

Guilt trip or not, she sighed as she rubbed her eyes and tried centering her thoughts.

“She’s gonna try and come for me again, yes. So, what: I just wander around until she finally decides to come nab me?”

The Sheriff looked to Virgil who gave him an uneasy glance in return; Tracey was practically baring her teeth as she stood glaring back and forth between the two men.

“You’re already making waves through her ranks with what you’ve been doing,” Virgil ventured carefully. “Just keep pushing her a little bit at a time and she’ll want to come speak with you.”

“And what happens when she does?” Bishop asked tiredly. “Can I even survive another go in the Bliss?”

“It’s not even worth gambling to find out!” Tracey cut in angrily. “Just cut your losses and move on!”

“Tracey!” Virgil chastised her quickly.

She ignored him, pushing herself to her feet aggressively and storming out; Virgil watched her go with equal parts sadness and exasperation. The Sheriff never took his eyes off Bishop as he gauged her reaction.

“So I wind up in the Bliss and find Burke – what do I even do once I have him?” she asked.

“We’ll be keeping an eye on you and where they take you,” he told her. “Keep in constant contact and we’ll tail at a distance. Once you have Burke, we’ll move in to help…but too many people too soon will spook Faith and potentially the Marshal. We have to be careful. One misstep…”

He didn’t need to warn her of the potential disastrous outcomes – her mind was already racing through them, feeling despair settling at the pit of her stomach. She shut her eyes and drew in a steadying breath, beating down the fear and panic until it was nothing more than a muted whine in her ears. Forcing her eyelids back open, she turned and looked at the Sheriff with conviction.

“When do you want to start, sir?”

* * *

 

Hurk and Sharky were just where Bishop had left them, surrounded by spectators as they regaled them with their account of destroying the Father statue. Hurk was massively playing up his role in the assault, miming his rocket launcher in the air, sound effects included. Bishop gave herself a minute to stand back and watch with amusement, watching Hannah’s eyes grow wide with the tale, before stepping out of the shadows.

Sharky finally took notice of her standing off to the side and stared; she gave a sharp motion with her head that had him leaving Hurk to continue the story alone as he wove his way out to meet her.

“What’s up, Dep?” Sharky asked as they stepped away from the others.

“The Sheriff warned me about the Bliss getting stronger out here,” she told him quietly. “I think it’s a good idea to hightail it out of here.”

“Sounds good – when do we head out?” Sharky said.

“I want you and Hurk to head out together shortly,” she told him.

“Just us? Why aren’t you coming?” he demanded quickly.

“Sheriff’s asked me to stick around for a day to have more blood work done on me,” she explained. “And then he roped me into helping them refortify the walls here before I head out.”

Sharky’s brow crinkled in confusion; she stepped closer to speak conspiratorially.

“I want you and Hurk to go back to Fort Drubman and start grabbing all the explosives you can get your hands on. We’re gonna move on to fucking with Jacob’s setup.”

She watched the gears turning inside his head and pressed on quickly.

“I’ll have Adelaide come swing by and pick me up and drop me off in the Whitetails. No way am I chancing it on foot or by car alone. We’ll regroup and head for this place - the Elk Jaw Lodge - I’ve been hearing chatter about. Supposedly it’s used as training grounds for the Chosen…how does razing it to its foundations sound?”

Sharky’s eyes lit up instantaneously and she forced a convincing smile onto her face, even as self-hatred seized her gut and made her feel nauseous. She hated lying to Sharky…but if he knew what she really planned on doing, he’d try to stop her. Or worse – insist on coming with her.

The thought of anything happening to him was one she couldn’t bear. She had to do this alone…knowing full well there was a chance she wouldn’t be coming back from the mission at all. It was goodbye, in a sense, and it threatened to tear her heart in two; but she kept her face impassive as Sharky eagerly embraced the idea.

“Hell yeah! Fuck up enough shit, the Whitetail Militia might even let us into their ranks!”

“Now _there’s_ an idea,” she encouraged him. “Now let’s see about getting Hurk onboard.”

Hurk wasn’t hard to convince either, as she expected he wouldn’t. He was busy cataloging through all the munitions he had stored at his father’s massive property and she oohed and aahed at all the right places. She followed behind him and Sharky as they made their way out past the wall, rattling off grand plans for all the partying they’d have at Fort Drubman after their next successes against the cult. The smile on her face physically pained her as she waved them off, feeling her heart breaking as they disappeared from view and left her standing alone under the evening sky.

* * *

 

Bishop had taken the time to go see Hannah, Laura, and Trish before departing. They had all been happy to see her and she forced a convincing smile on her face as she listened to how well target practice was going for Hannah and the new security grid Laura was working on for the jail’s patrols along the walls.

She didn’t dare tell them the nature of her departure, merely saying goodbyes with her heart in her throat.

Hannah had pulled them all together, taking Bishop’s hand in hers and reaching for Laura with her other. Bishop exchanged a look with Trish before reaching out for her and completing the circle as Trish took Laura’s other hand.

“Dear Lord, we pray for you to guide us with your divine light and wisdom,” Hannah said, head bowed.

Bishop blinked in surprise, looking between the younger girl and Laura – who also stood with her head bowed – before glancing over at Trish. Trish’s eyes were open and she stared back; after a moment, it seemed like clarity washed over her and she stared at Bishop strangely. The deputy felt her heart start to pound, wondering if she truly knew this might be the last time they’d all be together. She held the raven haired woman’s stare as evenly as she could as Hannah continued.

“Watch over us and grant us shelter from those who would do us harm. And by your Grace, may we be together again in a time of peace. Amen.”

“Amen,” Bishop parroted hollowly, trying not to let it show.

She’d given them each hugs goodbye – even Trish, who she felt must truly know that she was heading out and not returning, humored her with an embrace and she tried not tremble in her grasp. Whistling to Boomer, she turned her face away from all of them so they couldn’t see the beginning of despair starting to form there.

There was only one stop left before she set out. Boomer led the way towards the front entrance and she saw Tracey seated in the chair just outside.

“Hey,” she greeted as she veered towards her.

“Hey,” Tracey parroted back, sounding deflated. “Heading out…?”

Bishop gave her a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Just about to,” she said.

Silence lapsed between them, during which Bishop sent a pained glance towards Boomer.

“I’m leaving him here,” she said, jerking her head towards Boomer. “I don’t want him out there with me when…”

She trailed off, feeling her stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots. Tracey merely gave a sharp nod of understanding, hands clenching her biceps tightly.

“Listen. In case…in case I don’t make it back here-,” she started to say quietly.

“Don’t talk like that!” Tracey cut her off brusquely.

“ _In case I don’t_ ,” Bishop insisted, shutting her eyes tightly. “…Will you make sure Boomer gets back to Fall’s End? Mary May and Jerome...or even the Ryes will take care of him for me.”

Emotion welled up and made her chest tight and she silenced herself before she became too overwhelmed. She tired concentrated on her breathing, not wanting to dwell on her doomed future any more than she already had.

“…yeah. I’ll make sure he gets there,” Tracey said, voice unusually soft.

When Bishop felt strong enough to look her in the eye, she was surprised to see such gentleness in her gaze. It touched her beyond words and she suddenly found herself without the use of her tongue. Averting her gaze, she looked down to Boomer and felt grief consume her heart again. Crouching down in front of him, she stared at him woefully as he just gazed up at her adoringly, tail thumping noisily on the tile floor.

“Hey, buddy,” she managed to croak out, astutely aware of just how badly her voice was shaking. “You’re gonna stay here for a while. They’re gonna look after you.”

Boomer listened intently, cocking his head to stare at her quizzically; she couldn’t help but crack a sad smile at his actions, feeling her eyes grow hot with unshed tears.

“You be good now, you hear?” she told him. “This…this might be goodbye, bud.”

Her lips trembled violently as she fought to keep the tears at bay, taking a heaving breath to choke down a sob. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the fur at his shoulder. Boomer whined, clearly picking up on her distress, trying to lick at her ears consolingly. Choking out a laugh, she pressed a kiss to the top of his head and rubbed his ears fondly.

“That’s my good boy…”

When she pulled away from him, she rose to her feet and started to walk for the exit, not chancing a glance back. Boomer instantly began making sounds of distress, clearly straining against Tracey’s hold on him.

“C’mon! Easy, this way! C’mon, buddy!”

Boomer began to bark sharply, sounding frantic as Bishop pushed through the door and walked out into the open night air alone. She forced her eyes shut and tried desperately to force the sound of her dog’s howls and cries out of her ears as she let the tears flow freely down her cheeks, scorching her flesh with their tracks.

* * *

 

The night held a brisk chill to it as Bishop set forth alone. She regretted not asking around for a jacket before she left, hugging her arms and rubbing the fabric of her sleeves to put some feeling back into them as she walked under the soft light of a waning crescent moon and a spattering of milky stars. Her heart still ached for Sharky and Boomer’s company – hell, even Hurk or Adelaide’s – as she was forced to listen to the empty sound of her boots quietly pressing to the asphalt.

 _This feels like the green mile…,_ she thought bitterly.

She would never stop fighting, never give in to Faith…but that didn’t mean she was going to be naïve or overestimate her chances of success. This was a suicide mission, plain and simple. Even if she did get taken by Faith, there was no guarantee she’d see Burke again. Even if Burke was there, there was no guarantee she could take him herself while in the Bliss. And even if she could subdue him _and_ somehow manage to keep Faith at bay, there was no guarantee the Sheriff and the others would be able to get to her in time.

Whitehorse didn’t seem quite as antsy about it as she did – in fact, he seemed more confident in her than she was with herself. Any other time, it might have touched her just how much faith he was putting into her abilities and strength…but now, it just left her feeling hollow.

Her spirits were low as she found an abandoned house off the main road and slunk into it for the night. Even if it was just a few hours, she wanted to catch some rest…and maybe delay her inevitable doom.

Nightmares plagued her sleep. If it wasn’t the terror of her being trapped alone in the endless Bliss field - with no end or anyone in sight even as she sprinted and screamed for help - she was subjected to the horror of Joseph’s vision of Armageddon once more, trapped in a burning hellscape that seemed to have no concept of day or night.

She hadn’t been given much chance to dwell on what Joseph had shown her in the Bliss; she was too exhausted from nearly OD-ing and recovering from that and then the blinding rage she’d felt at Faith for reducing her to such a state had pushed it from her mind. But now, it seemed to haunt her; every time she awoke from one nightmare and managed to close her eyes and drift off again, she was transported back to the scene of devastation that Joseph had shared.

_The Collapse…_

Something about the burning earth, the blood red sky…it shook her to her core. There was no explanation for why it impacted her the way it did; it was a tableau of destruction and doom, yes, but she’d never been too spooked by doomsday proclamations in her entire life time.

But what Joseph had said…what he had revealed to her…it rattled her. She could feel uninhibited panic and fear deep in the very marrow of her bones. It would be so easy to chalk it all up to the effects the Bliss had on her mind, but she knew it wasn’t so.

There was no way to divulge such fears to any of the others – they wouldn’t understand. She could already hear them telling her that it was all an illusion, a ploy by Joseph and Faith to demoralize her and fill her with doubt. And as true as that may be…there was something more to it that she couldn’t put her finger on.

She woke feeling worse than she had the night before but forced herself to get up and face the morning sun with as much energy as she could muster. Trying to force images of the Collapse and Joseph from her mind, she looked for much needed distractions.

Fortunately, that fit directly into her strategy.

Any vehicle that had the misfortune of crossing her path was barraged with assault rifle fire. She’d encountered two pickups, beds brimming with Bliss flowers that she’d set ablaze, a tractor trailer presumably carrying supplies towards an outpost or bunker, and a patrol convoy consisting of three SUVs that she’d blown up with the last of her grenades.

She continued to walk the main road, annoyed by the lack of traffic that soon followed her chain of successive kills. Her head had begun to feel off again – nothing too extreme – but enough to make her start to feel suspicious over the timing of it. Spurned, she veered off the road and swung down towards Nolan’s Fly Shop, a well-known Peggie hub for Bliss production.

There had been a pitiful number of Peggies stationed at the store…and it didn’t escape her notice that several of them bolted rather than face her, even as she shot their friends dead in the dirt out front. Her brow furrowed, realizing that something sinister was afoot and knew that despite her attempts to stay ahead of Faith, it seemed like she was already ensnared in another one of the woman’s webs. She’d radioed in to let local Resistance know the place was deserted – and on fire – as she gathered alcohol for molotovs and lit the Bliss fields behind the shop ablaze before setting off again.

The funny feeling in her head suddenly turned to wooziness the further up the road she travelled. As she neared McCallough’s Garage and felt herself stagger on her feet, she knew with certainty that things were about to take a turn for the worse. Ambling towards the front of the shop, she pressed her back against the outside wall and slid down to the ground, ignoring the dirt smearing against her jeans as she threw her head back and shut her eyes.

She was in the grips of the Bliss, despite being incredibly careful about not exposing herself to it. The Sheriff was right – its influence was far more powerful than it had been even just days before. And she had a feeling it was being directed straight down her warpath, slowing her down.

Bringing her radio up to her face, she put in a call with Dutch, merely letting him know that it wouldn’t be much longer now until she was collected. She knew he would pass along the word to the Sheriff and ended the call after his final warning to be on her guard.

Sitting under the open sky, feeling the wind in her hair and the warmth of the afternoon sun on her face, Bishop realized just how much she didn’t want to push forward. Why couldn’t she just stay here and enjoy this moment forever? Would she even remember such a fleeting instance if she failed in her task with Faith?

She didn’t want to lose – she didn’t want to be robbed of her free will and taken from her friends. Hudson, the Ryes, Sharky, Boomer, the trio at the jail…her heart broke at the thought of never seeing any of them again. She desperately longed to call any of them up and listen to their voices one last time, but she knew if she did, she would lose all composure and break down.

There was only one person she could draw strength from in such a time – and she realized she wanted to hear his voice more than anyone else’s.

It took her only a second longer before she was bringing her walkie back up to her face, cranking it to another familiar frequency.

* * *

 

John’s call with Joseph earlier…hadn’t gone as he’d hoped.

His brother had acknowledged Faith’s failures, leaving John to delight with gleeful malice that she was no longer the faultless sibling she played herself up to be in Joseph’s eyes. But as he pressed on and suggested he step in, Joseph had stopped him in his tracks.

“The Deputy remains in Faith’s region. It’s up to your sister,” he reminded him.

“She’s lost, Joseph,” he reminded him quickly. “She can’t handle her.”

“You speak so eagerly of your sister’s failure,” Joseph noted disapprovingly.

“Only because I know I can succeed where she has failed!” he said in a half-truth. “The deputy and I already have a bond – she still speaks with me even from the Henbane. If I could just have her back, I know I can convince her of our cause!”

Joseph had gone silent with thought and John was caught between praying for his brother to relent and worry that he might remain resolute in his previous decision.

“I have foreseen many futures, each involving the deputy,” Joseph finally spoke again. “In some, she is recruited by Faith…in others, by Jacob. There are plenty involving you, John, though not all are triumphant as you hope.”

John felt a chill race down his spine at the mention of the Voice that so often whispered in Joseph’s ear. His brother had only shared some of what he’d been told – what he’d been shown – over the years. He still held the vast of his knowledge locked away in his mind, unwilling to either burden or frighten John with any unpleasant revelations.

“In how many of these does she fall to Faith?” he asked, trying to keep his tone level.

“There are some,” Joseph admitted after a moment. “She has fallen to Faith, Jacob…and yourself in countless possible futures.”

The thought of killing Anna by his own hand struck John speechless - and horrified.

“But there are others where she triumphs – over you, over Jacob, over Faith…over all three of you,” Joseph warned. “I don’t wish for such events to come to pass…but it’s not up to me to decide or alter God’s plan. Things proceed as He wills them to.”

John felt his lips twitching, caught between anger and disappointment. Joseph would not listen, he would not relent…

“I understand your feelings, John,” he continued, most likely choosing to ignore John’s rage. “But you mustn’t let them distract you from the Project’s goal. Concentrate on your tasks…God will take care of the rest.”

That had been hours ago; and yet Joseph’s words still stung him deeply. How did he make Joseph understand that God had clearly intended for Anna and he to be together without sounding prideful and desperate? It would easily earn his brother’s disapproval if done wrong and John didn’t trust himself to make a compelling case in his current state.

He’d wandered back out into the main room and plopped down on the couch, sitting and staring into space miserably for some time when the walkie on the coffee table crackled to life.

“John…are you there? John…?”

He started at the sound of Anna’s voice coming through the radio, sounding strangely subdued. Why did she sound like she was fighting the effects of Bliss again? What had happened?

Snatching up the walkie, he swiftly brought it up to his face.

“Anna,” he spoke quickly.

“Ah, so glad to have caught you,” she said teasingly.

Her choice of words didn’t escape his notice and his lips twitched at her brandishing his own taunts at him.

“I’d like to be able to follow that up with miraculously showing up in Holland Valley to destroy something,” she continued tiredly. “But unfortunately, I’m still in Henbane River.”

“What’s happened?” he asked. “Why do you sound like that?”

“You don’t know?” she asked in confusion. “Bliss has taken over just about everywhere out here in the last few days. Making it hard to even see straight…”

_Shit!_

He had been right all along about what Faith would do in response to Anna’s defiance. The timeframe had been the only thing he’d gotten wrong – where he thought he’d have a few days to work on retrieving Anna, he now only had the smallest imaginable window.

“Where are you?” he demanded. “Are you near the jail?”

“No,” she answered with a sigh. “No, I’m out on my own.”

“Alone?” he said in alarm. “Where is Boshaw?”

“I sent him away,” she said. “He and Boomer both. It wasn’t safe for either of them to stay with me…for anyone to be near me…”

She wasn’t wrong with such thinking – Faith would gladly dispatch anyone who got in her way to get to the deputy - but it only made John antsier, realizing what terrible danger she was in.

“I just…”

He could practically feel the lump in her throat she was trying to speak around and felt his heart clench.

“I just wanted to hear your voice…one last time…”

“Don’t speak like that!” he cut in fiercely, though his tone conveyed his own alarm. “Where are you?”

“Out in the open,” she said lazily. “Waiting for Faith…”

“Waiting-?” he started to say before feeling a cold dread settle into the pit of his stomach with realization. “No – _do not_ let her take you!”

“I’m _bait_ ,” she whispered conspiratorially. “The Sheriff wants Faith to take me back…so that if I see the Marshal…I can grab him and try and bring him back with me.”

The Bliss must have been affecting her more than she realized – John knew she would never have divulged such information to him otherwise. Still, hearing it and realizing the absolute absurdity of such a plan made his blood boil. Every single Resistance member placed so much weight on Anna’s shoulders without a single thought to her safety or wellbeing – he knew Faith’s control over the Bliss and realized that the Sheriff and the rest of those fools holed up in the jail had sent their star deputy out on a suicide mission.

Anna clearly understood the gravity of the situation – and ever the martyr, she steadily marched towards her demise. The fact that she was using the last of her free, thinking moments to contact him might have thrilled him at any other time…but now it just made him that much more panicked.

“Anna, you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded. “Tell me where you are – let me come get you.”

“You’re not allowed-,” she started to say slowly.

“-just tell me!” he insisted, fingers clenching around the walkie in distress. “Please.”

There was such a heavy silence that followed that made him despair, thinking she had finally ended the call and left him without a parting word.

“McCallough’s Garage,” she said finally.

He knew where that was – it would take a bit of time to get out there, but within an hour he could have her picked up and swiftly escorted out of Faith’s region.

“Stay there. I’ll have someone come to you-”

“It doesn’t matter,” she cut in with a heavy sigh.

“Anna-”

“She’s here for me.”

* * *

 

Bishop had heard Faith’s lilting voice crooning some wordless tune a minute or so ago, listening to it grow louder and stronger as she stayed on the line with John. Faith herself had finally come into view a few seconds prior, standing at a respectable distance as she watched her unflinchingly. It didn’t escape Bishop’s notice that the other woman’s eyes weren’t as warm and inviting as they usually were, even as she still sang so beautifully and whimsically. Even if Faith didn’t intend to show her hand, the deputy knew she was here for strictly business…and that business might get messy.

“Anna, listen to me! Do not go with her! Do you hear me?”

Bishop ignored John’s voice, focus solely on Faith staring at her evenly. Slowly, she pushed herself up to her feet, staggering slightly under the effects of Bliss tugging at her brain.

“-answer me, Anna! Don’t-”

With a flick of her wrist, she cranked the radio from his frequency, cutting his voice off as she redirected it several dozen channels lower. Clicking the call button a handful of times and listening to the static play back in her ears, she finally hooked the walkie back at her hip and gave Faith her undivided attention.

Her body was torn between fight and flight responses even as she forced herself to trudge towards the woman in white before her. She held onto her anger and panic as best she could, knowing the Bliss could very easily steal those from her and render her helpless. They were entering Faith’s proper domain and Bishop couldn’t afford any further weakness.

She approached the other woman silently, never tearing her eyes from hers. Faith was only an inch or taller than Bishop but in that moment, she felt like she towered over her. Just like Joseph did…or John…

As she bridged the last few feet between them, Faith extended a hand out to her, mirroring the same gesture she’d made in their last encounter. Bishop reached out and accepted it, just as before…only this time with a certain amount of reluctance. It wasn’t a bad thing – if anything, it bolstered her nerve, knowing she wasn’t fully sedated by the effects of Bliss. But it still left her with a sense of foreboding of something terrible to come, only strengthened by Faith’s little smile that held untold consequences.

* * *

 

Faith had been upset, as expected. It was still jarring, however, to watch the change in her countenance – her pretty face contorting with anger – and have her speak so harshly after so long with honeyed words and gentle touches. The anger hadn’t lasted, much to Bishop’s surprise. Faith still believed that she had control; Bishop had felt a spike of cold dread shoot down her spine as Faith had smiled cruelly at her and promised nothing the deputy did would change how the conflict would end.

Then she had shown her to a lake’s edge and the approaching boat bobbing across the still waters and Bishop finally laid eyes on Marshal Burke. She’d accepted his hand and climbed into the seat across from his as he started rowing them away from the shore. Butterflies shimmered and fluttered all around them; one or two stuck in Bishop’s braid but there were countless numbers clinging to Burke’s arms and chest. Her heartrate accelerated - but still felt dimmed under the effects of Bliss - as she realized her part in the Sheriff’s plan was close at hand.

As Burke began to speak, Bishop realized with muted devastation just how lost he truly was. Faith had him securely under her thumb – the way he spoke of the Bliss and freedom made her realize he was merely a mouthpiece for Faith herself. This wasn’t the same man who had coached her through taking out scores of Peggies as they’d barreled through the night in a stolen pickup and hastened for an escape to Missoula…there was very little of him left based on what she was seeing and hearing.

“Have you ever stopped and looked at how your life’s turned out?”

In a less serious situation, she would have scoffed at him. If only he knew how often she reflected on the harsh and unforgiving road her life had taken…

“We’re told we can be anything, right? A famous singer, a hall of famer, a movie star…we’re all gonna be a success.”

“I’ve never had greater ambitions,” she told him flatly. “I’ve always wanted to be a cop.”

She studied his face as he merely smiled at her, not affected in the least by her hostility; her heart sank as she realized just how far gone he was. Faith had him completely sedated and subdued...

 _Maybe Tracey was right about him_ , she thought woefully.

No – she had to keep trying. There had to be a way to get through to him.

“We think we have freewill…but that is just a lie. An illusion,” he told her.

She stared at him in disbelief, shaking her head slowly.

“Is this freewill, Burke?” she demanded incredulously. “What you’re saying to me now…it’s just what she told you to say. Snap out of it.”

He shook his head, eyes shutting momentarily.

“I’m done with being the errand boy, the garbage collector…I am so done,” he told her, voice choked with emotion. “Because if that is real life, then what is the point?”

 _Life sucks and then you die – get over it_ , she wanted to snap at him but held her tongue, knowing she needed him as compliant as possible if she was going to escape with him.

He looked back at her and she stared at him, unmoved.

“This place gave me the chance to be something I thought I could never be: happy,” he told her with a smile.

“It’s not real,” she insisted as fiercely as she could. “None of it is real – not even the happiness you feel! It’s an illusion.”

“So what if it isn’t?” he asked, seeming unfazed. “It feels real. In the end, isn’t that the only thing that really matters?”

He stepped out onto dry land, smiling once more at her before bending down to pluck a Bliss flower out of the shimmering grass and starting to walk away. Bishop made to follow, pulling herself out of the boat; the second her feet were back on solid ground, however, the world was back to spinning. Suddenly her legs were made of lead, far too heavy and tiresome to move. Her head was unbearably woozy, making keeping her vision straight next to impossible.

By the time she got any semblance of balance back, Marshal Burke was already lightyears away. She made to follow him but her gait was so slow and sluggish it felt like trying to swim through molasses just to keep him in view. For a dizzying moment, she just considered dropping into the soft grass below and taking a rest…

“ROOK, DO NOT LET THE MARSHAL GET AWAY!” The Sheriff’s voice cut through the haze like a knife.

It was enough of a jolt to kick some of the fuzziness from her mind. Muscles pumping, she tried moving as fast as she could, swiftly gaining ground on Burke. Before the burst of energy wore out, she launched herself on him the second she was within reach. Her body connected with his as she tackled him to the ground, ignoring the strangled noise that escaped him as they fell.

Burke suddenly seemed to have lost some of his grogginess, thrashing wildly beneath her. Bishop tried avoiding his hands as he swatted at her face, struggling to hold his wrists in her grasp as she pinned him to the soft earth as best she could. The Sheriff had to hurry: otherwise, Burke would soon overpower her and everything would be for nothing…and she was swiftly losing her strength and focus the longer she stayed fighting with Burke.

She could hear someone calling out to her - and not the gentle, lilting voice of Faith or the Sheriff barking orders. Another familiar voice she suddenly could not place was yelling her name at a distance, getting closer and stronger…

There were hands on her arms pulling her up and away from the Marshal. Abruptly whirled around, she found herself staring into impossibly blue eyes.

“Anna!” he said again, insistent.

She blinked up at him in confusion.

“John?” she asked fuzzily.

The Marshal was attempting to stumble to his feet and away from her; Bishop had the sense to turn and watch his struggle and weakly reached out for him before John had caught her hand and pulled it to his chest. Her gaze returned to him easily, blinking up at him owlishly as she tried to scrutinize his face. Her other hand reached out tentatively towards his cheek.

“Are you…real?” she slurred.

Her hand was forcefully grabbed and pressed to his face. His eyes never broke from hers.

“I am real,” he promised. “I am here.”

“John! What are you doing?”

Faith’s voice was wafting towards them from afar, tone biting and angry. It was such a stark contrast to how gentle and honeyed she’d spoken up until now – even minutes before when she had been upset she hadn’t seemed as incensed as she currently was.

John pulled Bishop into his side, wrapping an arm around her protectively; she all but curled into him, magnetized by his warmth and the sense of security she now felt with his presence.

“Leave her alone!” Faith insisted, her voice seeming to be everywhere all at once, sending another shiver down Bishop’s spine. “This is where she’s meant to be!”

“Rook? ROOK! Where is Rook? Somebody grab Burke, goddamnit-“

 _That sounds like the Sheriff_ , she thought dreamily as John pressed her face to his chest.

She didn’t have more than a moment to process the words being said before the sounds of gunfire shattered the tranquility around them. Anna knew to be alarmed by the noise but found she couldn’t bring herself to react accordingly; she stood there blinking lazily, looking around for the source of the commotion and making no effort to find cover. John, however, was very much attuned to reality and ducked down, pulling her sharply with him.

She was so tired, she realized suddenly as she went slack against him. Her eyelids were heavy and slipping shut as her legs were swept out from under her; her limp body was cradled against a warm chest and it was all she could focus on even amidst the total warfare that seemed to be unfolding around them. Soon enough, the gunfire became distant in her ears and she slipped easily into sleep, the smell of John’s cologne comforting and heavy in her nose as her head lolled gently against his chest.

* * *

 

 

"You are an obsession  
I cannot sleep  
I am a possession  
Unopened at your feet  
There's no balance  
No equality  
Be still  
I will not accept defeat  
  
I will have you  
Yes, I will have you  
I will find a way and I will have you  
Like a butterfly  
A wild butterfly  
I will collect you and capture you  
  
You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
  
I feed you I drink you  
My day and my night  
I need you I need you  
By sun or candlelight  
You protest; you want to leave  
Stay, oh, there's no alternative  
  
Your face appears again  
I see the beauty there  
But I see danger  
Stranger beware  
Of circumstance in your naked dreams  
Your affection is not what it seems  
  
You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
  
My fantasy has turned to madness  
And all my goodness has turned to badness  
My need to possess you has consumed my soul  
My life is trembling; I have no control  
  
I will have you  
Yes, I will have you  
I will find a way and I will have you  
Like a butterfly  
A wild butterfly  
I will collect you and capture you

You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?  
You are an obsession  
You're my obsession  
Who do you want me to be  
To make you sleep with me?"

 

_Obsession, Animotion_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, Faith - it's been fun, but I am so happy to be putting the Henbane River in the rear view mirror! HALLELUJAH  
> This turned out to be longer than expected so I apologize for the wait! (That seems to be the story of these fics - always stretching longer than intended, haha)  
> Many thanks to all those who left kudos and reviews! As always, they are very much appreciated! <3 I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

John knew he should be more worried about the coming storm.

But it was hard to feel anything other than unbridled excitement as he marched through the front door of the ranch, Anna Bishop clutched tightly to his chest. She was so small and light…it was impossible to ignore the thought racing rampant through his mind that she fit perfectly in his arms.

He didn’t pay the guards any mind, even as they tried speaking to him and gawked at the woman he held, ignoring them steadfastly as he marched straight for the stairs and began his ascent. There were so many things to prepare for: beefing up security around the ranch, switching patrols around the Valley…his brother’s impending arrival.

Faith would have already gone to Joseph by now and told him of John’s interference.

He had arrived not a moment too soon; he’d deduced from Anna’s last known location where Faith had intended to take her, and the radio chatter he heard as he barreled through Henbane territory in his truck only confirmed his fears. Anna had been just feet from Faith’s bunker entrance when he’d spotted her tackling the Marshal into the dirt. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as he’d slammed on the brakes and leapt out of the vehicle to reach her in time, pulling her away from the gates spewing forth concentrated Bliss.

Faith herself had started to make an appearance from the safety of her bunker, incensed at John’s presence; fortunately, the Resistance had arrived just in time to distract her and her forces as they met the Sheriff and his men head on. It had been the perfect smokescreen for John to gather Anna in his arms and race back to his truck with the handful of men he’d brought along and hightail it straight back over the border to Holland Valley without pursuit.

Kicking open the bedroom door with ease, he marched straight up to his bed and placed Anna on top of the covers. Her head lolled as he lay her down and a muted sigh seemed to escape her lips but she remained asleep. It would be quite a while before she woke up, he knew, and even afterwards it would take much longer for all the Bliss to work its way out of her system.

There were ways to speed up the process…but having her sedated for a while longer would make things easier. He knew if she recovered too quickly - before he had a chance to prepare for her presence here - she would not hesitate to rip the rug right out from under him. It was an admirable quality she possessed…as well as a tiresome one; if having her unconscious for a few days meant he could plan to be three steps ahead of her when she finally awoke, then he’d take being deprived of her voice and the sight of her mismatched irises a little while longer.

He glanced down to take in the sight of her slumbering face; she looked so peaceful asleep…such a sharp contrast from how hard and angry and tired she’d always looked down in the bunker. There had been moments, however, when she’d softened and given him a rare, genuine smile or gentle look…there was no denying the burning desire in his heart to have her to look at him only that way from now on.

_Plenty of time to reach that point,_ he reminded himself.

His fingers reached out to caress her cheek, still finding it hard to believe he had her with him again. This was what God intended, he knew – it was always meant to be the two of them together, facing the impending Collapse.

After a minute more spent staring at her sleeping face, he set to work pulling her weapons from their holsters. The first was an ordinary pistol, nothing atypical for a deputy sheriff to be carrying…but the second…

He stared in wonder at the Desert Eagle and marveled at its size compared to her small hands a moment before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans. There was a knife sheathed on her boot, just as there had been when she had first been brought down to his bunker; prior knowledge was the only thing that led him to another, smaller blade tucked out of sight behind her belt that he also took into his possession. His eyes fell upon the walkie talkie at her hip and looked at it thoughtfully before taking it in his hands.

On the drive back from Henbane territory, he’d had to contend with the constant chatter of her radio as he held her close and kept an eye out for any sign of Faith’s forces trying to head them off before they reached Holland Valley. Only one conversation in particular had stood out to him as they drew closer to the border, the frequency starting to crackle and lose strength.

_“-forced to fall back. They retreated back into Faith’s Gate.”_

_“What about Rook? Is she alright?”_

_“…she’s gone…”_

_“WHAT?!”_

_John had recognized the voice of the Sheriff but not the woman screaming back at him._

_“What do you mean ‘she’s gone’?! You let Faith snatch her right out from under your-”_

_“It wasn’t Faith – it was John.”_

_“-?! John Seed? What the hell was he doing there?”_

_“Doesn’t matter why…but he was and he took Rook – saw it with my own two eyes.”_

_“And you just let him take her back? After everything she went through with him the first time-?!”_

_“Tracey! I will not have you lecturing me on things you know nothing about! We’re inbound now – have the gates ready for us-”_

John hadn’t needed to hear more and cranked the radio to a different frequency as the conversation steered away from Anna and himself, letting the truck’s interior fall eerily silent.

They had recognized him and the hand he had played at Faith’s Gate…it was highly unlikely that Fall’s End had been informed quick enough for them to rally their forces…but John was not up for taking anything on chance. Not when he _finally_ had Anna back with him again.

Checking to make sure she was well situated on the bed, he stood to his full height and strode for the door leading to the balcony and poked his head out. One man was making his patrol rounds in the dirt driveway below and John called out to him; when he recognized who was speaking to him, the man came running, racing up the nearby stairs to reach him.

“Take post at this door,” John instructed him. “No one comes in or out, understood?”

He waited for an affirmative before reentering his room and going out the door into the house’s interior; there were two men standing at the end of the hallway that started upon hearing his approach and looked nervous but calmed when he gave one instructions to stand watch at the door and the other to follow him.

Anna would not wake for some time, of that he was certain. She had been exposed to too much Bliss and would need to rest and level out…but the Resistance wouldn’t hesitate if they thought she was here or in route to his bunker. He still had time to reroute patrols and ratchet up security measures at the ranch before they had a chance to try and think of mounting another rescue mission for their beloved deputy.

There would be no repeats of last time – he’d see to that personally.

* * *

 

John could hear the truck screeching up the gravel drive before he saw it. He glanced out the window at the headlights glaring through the darkness and momentarily paused in grabbing the blanket off the nearby chair. He’d been back by Anna’s side for no more than 10 minutes; several hours had passed since they’d arrived at the ranch together and the sun had long since set.

When he had seen and heard nothing from the rest of the county, he’d almost tricked himself into thinking that the night might actually pass by uneventfully. As soon as that first truck appeared, however, he felt a cold spike of dread settle in his stomach that only grew with each passing moment.

He stepped back towards the bed and draped the blanket across Anna, taking his time smoothing it out as he kept an ear trained towards the door. There was distant commotion somewhere on the first floor, followed by silence; then he heard the telltale sound of approaching boots and prepared himself as he turned around to face his visitors.

It was no great surprise when Joseph strode through the door…though it still caused a ripple of fear to race through him. To see Faith, however, float in right after him caught John off-guard.

“Joseph,” he greeted stiffly, trying to reclaim some of his poise. “Faith…”

“Have you any idea what you’ve done?” Faith demanded before Joseph could speak. “How dare you come into my lands and take her?!”

“The Deputy has always been my responsibility,” he insisted. “Joseph entrusted me with her from the start.”

“And you had plenty of chances to turn her!” Faith argued, pretty face contorted with anger. “She slipped through your grasp and into mine! The responsibility fell onto me while she was in my territory…”

Faith’s expression darkened as she glared openly at John.

“But you broke the rules the Father laid out before us: none of us were to intrude in each other’s lands impede any of our work preparing for the Collapse!”

Nothing she said was untrue and he had no rebuttal for her. He didn’t dare look upon Joseph, still standing silently off to the side, but whose gaze was heavy and judgmental upon him.

“Not only did your actions cost me the Deputy,” Faith continued bitingly, “But it cost me the Marshal as well!”

So the Resistance had succeeded in snatching Burke back after all…it had appeared as such while he’d made a swift exit from the chaos with Anna in tow, but he’d wondered if Faith’s forces couldn’t have intervened in time to prevent the Sheriff and his posse from making a getaway back to the jail with their intended target.

Faith looked towards Anna, still lying peacefully on top of his bed and he felt himself stiffen with apprehension. His sister shot him a nasty look before letting her lips spread in a cruel smile as she stepped closer to the bedside.

“Fortunately, you prevented the Sheriff from taking the Deputy back too,” she said. “I’ll take her off your hands now, John.”

“Absolutely not!” he snapped immediately.

“It’s only fair,” Faith insisted, reaching out to drag her fingers along Anna’s forearm, making John bristle. “You shouldn’t have been there in the first place…she was nowhere near the valley.”

“Not like the last time she tried to return to me and you interfered?” he couldn’t help but rise to her bait, glaring at her maliciously.

“She was still _mine_ ,” Faith countered instantly.

“She has _never_ been _yours_ ,” John said darkly as he took an aggressive step forward. “And she never will be.”

There was a brief moment where fear visibly flickered across Faith’s face and he delighted in being the cause. It passed just as soon as Joseph finally spoke up.

“John.”

A single word was all it took: his tone was stern and warning and John immediately drew into himself, cowed by his brother. He glared at the floor, wanting to direct the heat of his anger towards Faith…but didn’t dare while Joseph still stared at him.

“Joseph,” Faith said, turning to face him, “Please allow me to have the Deputy taken back over the Henbane. I can convert her; she was so close before-”

She directed a heated glare at John.

“-before the interference,” she said. “ _I_ can indoctrinate her – _I_ can bring her into our flock.”

John scoffed, unable to contain the sound of disgust that escaped his lips.

“No, you can’t,” he jeered. “She’ll never submit to you.”

“Just because _you_ failed and she escaped you doesn’t mean that I-”

“…J-jo…”

John and Faith both started at the voice that rose from the sleeping form on the bed. They looked towards Anna together; she laid there, eyes shut and breathing even, but clearly twitching in the throes of some dream.

“…John,” She mumbled, face contorted with distress. “John…”

_She was searching for him…_

Forcing past Faith brusquely, John was at Anna’s side in an instant, taking her hand in his.

“I’m here, Anna,” he assured her fiercely. “Everything’s alright.”

He reached out to smooth over the stress lines on her forehead and she visibly relaxed, falling silent once more. John felt his face soften as he glanced down upon her, the relief he’d felt before tempered by anxiety as he feared Joseph might actually side with Faith and take Anna from him. It wasn’t right…it wasn’t fair…

John’s hand shook around Anna’s and he held her more tightly, afraid to loosen his grip and have her slip away once more.

“The Deputy remains your responsibility, John,” Joseph spoke up finally.

Astonishment written plainly across his face, John could only turn and stare mutely at his older brother. Faith stepped forward instantly, posture stiff with disbelief.

“Joseph-,” she started to say.

“Faith, you must prepare for the oncoming pushback from the resistance stationed at that jail,” Joseph said, silencing her. “If you want the Marshal back, you’ll have to handle them first.”

He turned to face her.

“And they are becoming bolder and more brazen with each victory they claim under your watch,” he said.

John watched her humble herself before Joseph, face growing grim.

“Yes, Joseph,” she agreed quietly.

He was finding it hard to keep his satisfaction from showing: Anna was his to keep! Faith’s humiliation was only the cherry on top…

His sister seemed to be struggling with herself, uncertain of what should be said or done in the face of Joseph’s disapproval. John could feel her eyes turn back to him and hold but he forced himself to look only towards Anna’s sleeping face, knowing he’d only get into more trouble by meeting Faith’s stare head on. He stroked Anna’s hand tenderly as Faith finally strode to the door wordlessly and disappeared into the house, leaving he and Joseph alone.

“John…,” Joseph spoke to him sternly after Faith had vanished.

John flinched, already hurt by the disapproval in his brother’s tone. Turning slowly, he faced Joseph with his head bowed.

“What happened today cannot happen again,” Joseph lectured. “The boundaries I laid out for you, Jacob, and Faith were to maintain harmony. If we fight amongst each other, we invite sin into our hearts…and the Collapse will only be brought about sooner. We must stand together.”

“…yes, Joseph,” was all John could answer, smarting from his disappointment.

Joseph stared at him a moment longer before turning and facing the bed once more. John followed his gaze to Anna’s sleeping face and felt some of his shame assuaged by the sight of her. She was here, she was safe…what more could he ask for?

“You’ve done well with the Deputy,” Joseph said softly, catching John by surprise. “She’s changed…”

Joseph turned his gaze back to his younger brother.

“As have you…,” he noted. “What remains to be seen is whether you’ve changed for the better. Only you can decide for yourself. Keep your heart open, John, and the Lord will not disappoint.”

His brother did not linger and followed Faith’s exit out the door, leaving wholly John was surprised by the lack of discipline he faced. That was it? No concessions to Faith, no penance to be extracted from his unrepentant heart?

He couldn’t have dreamed of such a favorable outcome for himself and was left standing in stunned silence for a while longer.

_God himself planned for all this_ , he realized with a swell of happiness. _It was always meant to happen this way._

Somewhere below, he could hear the muted sounds of raised, excited voices and knew that Joseph was passing through the ranks of his men on the ground floor. John couldn’t bring himself to consider following his brother and walking him out towards the truck waiting for him somewhere in the driveway; instead, he turned back to Anna and approached her side.

Pulling himself up onto the bed next to her, he rested his head on the pillow beside hers and took in the sight of her slumbering face once more. It was still sinking in that she was really his to keep; Joseph had given his blessing and Faith could not snatch her back…he’d make sure of that. His sister in all likelihood would try to find some way to retaliate but it would have to be through insignificant measures – she’d never have a chance at Anna again.

Reaching for one of Anna’s hands, he brought it to his chest and held it over his heart, gently running his thumb up and down her wrist. Tomorrow was another day, probably more challenging than the one just ending…but he looked towards it with unbridled enthusiasm. Finally, things were back on track – finally, he had his deputy again and he could work towards bringing her to atonement. She had been so close before…time away had undone some of his hard work, but the groundwork still remained.

He knew he could win her over. And now he had all the time in the world to do it.

Shutting his eyes, he let himself smile with satisfaction as he felt the soft thrum of Anna’s pulse under his fingers and let himself finally relax.

* * *

 

John woke feeling refreshed. He hadn’t intended to sleep for as long as he had…but lying beside Anna had filled him with such contentment that it had been impossible to resist getting a full night’s sleep. When he opened his eyes and found her still there – and realized with certainty the previous day’s events hadn’t merely been an elaborate dream – he was practically beaming.

He’d gone straight down to his office and dove into his work, rerouting supply runs and road patrols, shifting outpost details and security measures, and readying his ranch for anything and everything that could happen in the coming days. Anything he couldn’t do from home – mainly confessions and atonement – would have to be put on hold…he didn’t dare risk leaving Anna alone even for a minute.

Even as he forced himself to work, he was constantly marching back through the house to his bedroom to check on her. On the fifth such break he’d taken, Anna stirred beneath his hands as he stroked the crown of her head and he watched as her eyes forced themselves open blearily. He pushed her bangs off her forehead and she squinted up at him curiously for several moments before recognition dawned slowly across her face. Both her irises were still tinged a hazy green around the edges, a telltale sign of the Bliss still running rampant through her system.

“Hey, you,” she said softly, a small, lazy smile pulling at her lips as she gazed up at him.

John smiled back, brushing her cheek with his knuckles fondly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

She seemed to consider the question for only a moment before it visibly dissipated from her mind as she inhaled deeply and let her eyes slip shut.

“I think I had a dream about you,” she said slowly, her voice slurring ever so slightly.

He raised a brow at her, smile curling into a smirk.

“Really?” he asked. “What kind of dream?”

She smiled up at him knowingly, laughing lightly to herself.

“Mmm…you and me,” she sighed. “Far away from all…of this…”

She lifted a hand up to gesture around her but clearly struggled with coordination, its movement airy and slow. He reached out to take hold of her wrist gently, bringing her hand up to his chest; she seemed to eye the expanse of skin where his shirt was unbuttoned and reached past to touch. Her fingers briefly brushed the bunker key slung around his neck and for a moment a thrill of terror raced through him, thinking she was more coherent than she let on. The paranoia passed as she grazed her fingers over the letters carved into his chest, tracing the path of the giant slash that ran horizontally through them.

“That…looks like it hurt,” she noted dreamily.

“A tad,” he admitted, placing his hand over hers and holding it in place, marveling at how much smaller hers was in comparison.

She slowly dragged her eyes from their hands back up to his face, her gaze unsteady.

“I feel…weird…,” she told him.

“You’re still affected by the Bliss,” he told her gently, “You’re not yourself.”

He watched as her eyes crinkled mischievously, all previous doubt and worry vanishing in an instant.

“How do you know that?” she asked cheekily.

He smiled at her as he smoothed her hair down.

“Because you’re being so nice to me,” he answered sweetly.

She couldn’t help but giggle at that, throwing her free hand over her eyes as she laughed. Seeing her so happy and momentarily carefree had him joining in softly, shaking his head to himself. Something about the gesture must have emboldened her – the next moment, she was grabbing his shirt in both hands and pulling him down to press her lips against his.

His hands gripped the sheets on either side of her, wrestling with himself. It wasn’t like he was reciprocating…but he also wasn’t doing much to dissuade her from continuing either. He gave himself a few seconds to relish in her enthusiasm and touch before forcing himself to turn away from her eager lips.

“I can’t control myself if you keep this up,” he sighed around her, wanting nothing more than to let her continue.

He reached for her hands as they strayed towards the buttons of his vest and took them in his own.

“You need your rest,” he told her firmly, easing her back against the pillows gently. “We’ll continue this later.”

She merely looked at him with a playful grin, appearing unfazed by such a remark …but he could see the fatigue from the Bliss returning just from the look in her eyes and she didn’t resist as he forced her back. A heavy sigh escaped from her lips as she settled, turning to nuzzle into his hand as he stroked her cheek fondly.

It had been a monumental task leaving her after that – being given just a taste of what was to come left him starving for more. But he had a feeling when she was fully awake and back to herself, she wouldn’t be quite as forthcoming as she had been minutes before. Patience was key…he had a lot of work ahead of him to convince her of Joseph’s wisdom and foresight, of the Project’s goals being the only path towards salvation and her place amongst them.

Restoring some of her faith might be asking for too much too soon, but John was nothing if not ambitious.

As much as her brief awakening had left him feeling rejuvenated, it also instilled a sense of paranoia in him; he knew logically she was still too affected by Bliss to do anything in her state…however, he _refused_ to underestimate her again. Guards were posted on either door out of the bedroom but that didn’t stop him from continually coming back to check on her himself. She was always in the same position he left her in, sleeping soundly, and he spent minutes at her bedside, fingers teasing through her hair while she remained none the wiser.

When he was shut in his office or at the long table in the ranch’s main room, he kept an ear on the radio at all times. The one at his side was attuned to his men patrolling the surrounding areas, keeping a watchful eye on the roads for any sign of the Resistance sniffing around beyond the rather generous lines John had drawn for them to hide behind. The walkie talkie on the table, however, was on Fall’s End’s channel, obtained once more from his source after they’d shuffled through their communications recently.

He’d had the pleasure of hearing the Sheriff himself finally call in to speak with Jerome and Hudson. Apparently, Faith had attempted another assault on the jail in the past two days that the Resistance stationed there had barely managed to withstand; still, they triumphed and pushed her men back and drove them back into the hills. John listened with immense satisfaction, wondering just what Faith’s expression must have been when she knew she had been dealt another resounding defeat so soon after the last.

John listened with interest as the elephant in the room was finally brought up.

“…any word on Rook?” Whitehorse ventured carefully.

The silence that followed was absolutely delicious; John abandoned all pretense of pretending to still work as he pushed his papers aside to lean forward and listen closely.

“None,” Jerome finally answered. “Patrols to the north and west have been escalated drastically. We can’t even get close enough to catch a glimpse at what’s going on out there. Even if we could, in all likelihood she’s down in John’s Gate again.”

“…and no chance at staging a second party crashing,” Whitehorse said gravely. “John’ll see to that.”

Whatever Jerome was going to say next was overshadowed by a loud crashing sound from his end of the line, a table or chair being overturned in the bar followed by a door slamming hard enough that John felt he could almost hear the glass pane in it rattle.

“Hudson’s not taking it well,” Jerome said after a moment’s silence. “No one is but she’s taking it hardest.”

“Rook knew the risks,” the Sheriff insisted, though he sounded tired and forlorn. “Knew them better than anyone else. And she still did what needed to be done without complaint.”

“Hudson’s not the only one thinking the Marshal was a poor payout for losing Bishop,” Jerome ventured hesitantly. “There’s still a lot of anger and confusion surrounding what happened to her around here. Everyone still needs time to grieve and come to terms with it.”

“You’re telling me,” the Sheriff sighed bitterly. “I still have to deliver the news to Sharky Boshaw…”

“He doesn’t know?” Jerome didn’t bother hiding his shock.

“Sharky’s somewhere in the Whitetails, probably getting drunk with Hurk Jr. It won’t be long before he realizes something’s not right…and he’s the one I most worried about doing something stupid,” Whitehorse answered. “Which is why I’m hoping you can provide me with Grace Armstrong’s frequency. I think her presence will be helpful in delivering the news.”

“Absolutely,” Jerome replied quickly. “I’ll have her make contact with you.”

“Good. One other thing…I have Rook’s dog here. She left instructions with Tracey to send him back to Fall’s End if she didn’t make it back. I’m hoping to find someone willing to meet halfway to pick him and bring him to you-”

John cranked the radio off and leaned back with satisfaction, arms folding across his chest. Well, that explained the poor effort put forth to try and probe anything further north than Golden Valley Gas…the Resistance did believe Anna was securely underground and knew it would be a futile effort to try and attempt another rescue mission.

They were right to despair – anything they did moving forward would be met with an iron fist. He’d been too distracted up until now to fully assess and counter their efforts; and up until recently, they’d had an ace up their sleeve when Anna had been the one rallying their forces and leading the charge.

Now they were leaderless – Jerome and Mary May hadn’t been able to hold their people together before Anna had rolled in and taken Fall’s End back for them. She was the backbone of their Resistance and it would eventually crumble without her. All John really had left to do was bide his time and let them tear themselves apart for him…he probably wouldn’t, merely because he wanted the last word and would be there to gloat at their failure.

And maybe by then, if fortune smiled upon him, Anna would be right there at his side for it.

* * *

 

Trying to wake up was like being forced to fight out of a heavy fog; Bishop felt acutely aware of the weight of her eyelids as they resisted being opened. She found herself staring up at an unfamiliar wood ceiling that she tried to study without blinking, afraid if she shut her eyes she might be tempted to sink back into the dark abyss of unconsciousness.

She barely had any memory of what had transpired leading up to this moment. There were scattered thoughts of an ethereal plane, tinted green and hazy with mist…and very vague recollections of gunfire and explosions. And then there was a whole lot of nothing else.

There had been moments she felt like she could almost surface from under the heavy blanket of sleep…she swore there had been several instances of voices raised in argument but she could never grasp onto the sound tight enough and had slipped back into oblivion and silence.

Bishop forced her eyes from the ceiling to stare at the hand she raised in front of her face. The appendage was blurry in her vision, her sight sparkling and swaying with a familiar wooziness.

_Bliss…_ she realized slowly.

Things began coming back to her successively: Faith, the Marshal, John-

“John…?” she said aloud, voice hoarse from disuse.

It was impossible for him to have been there…but he was the last coherent thought she had before blacking out. He had been the one pulling her off Burke and away from Faith, his arms around her the only thing keeping her from collapsing into the dirt beneath them.

If John had her…then…

For a moment, all rational thought was shoved aside as a flicker of muted panic tried to seize hold. She had to remind herself over and over of the wooden ceiling overhead and the natural light flowing into the room – neither of which would be found deep underground in his bunker. For once, she was grateful for the Bliss still in her system…it was the only reason terror didn’t fully seize control of her, brain still too fuzzy to fully comprehend and react to everything unfolding around her.

If she wasn’t in John’s Gate, there was only one other place she could think he’d take her…even through her muddled thoughts she was able to firmly pluck “Seed Ranch” and hold onto it. It made sense but she couldn’t be certain beyond a glimpse at a single bedroom. A massive bedroom, she might add: larger than the entirety of her combined kitchen and sitting room back in her rented place on the outskirts of the county.

She had a feeling that this was the master bedroom at Seed Ranch…meaning she was lying in John’s enormous bed at the moment. Her mind wasn’t clear enough to feel embarrassed or alarmed at the implications there, instead pushing herself up further on the pillows and trying not to be lured back to sleep by the softness of the mattress beneath her.

A door off to the side opened and she couldn’t bring herself to react to it all that quickly, turning to look only after the figure had already come around the corner. Still, her heart fluttered almost instantaneously as she took in the sight of John and the look on his face as he saw her sitting up and staring back at him.

“You’re finally awake,” he said with a smile as he approached.

“…for the moment,” she supplied slowly, watching him carefully as he came to lean on the bed beside her.

“You continually surprise me with your resilience,” he admitted as he reached out to brush her mess of a braid over her shoulder. “I would have thought you’d be down for at least another day.”

“How long was I out?” she asked curiously, trying to ignore how his fingers had slid from her hair to her neck as he gently caressed her skin there.

“3 days,” he told her.

She could barely feel his heavy gaze on her as he gauged her reaction, still too sedated to register much of anything. Even so, she ran the number through her head over and over and tried to process it thoroughly. 3 days…even at the jail, she hadn’t been unconscious or bedridden for that long. Granted, she hadn’t been left to just sleep off the Bliss then…but still, it seemed jarring to know all that time had passed and it hadn’t felt like she had lost more than a day in her mind.

“Huh,” was all she could say in response, gaze falling to her knees.

John’s fingers slipped from her neck to her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. She stared into his eyes and tried not to let her heart pound too dangerously at the intensity his gaze held.

“You must be hungry. I’ll have something brought to you,” he told her.

He gave her a peculiar smile that she wasn’t sure she understood the reason for.

“Unless you’d rather pick up where we left off before?” he asked teasingly.

Bishop stared at him in open confusion, brow furrowing.

“What does that mean?” she asked slowly, trying to cycle through her foggy memories for the last interaction she had with him.

He merely looked at her in amusement.

“Don’t remember?” he asked. “Not surprising. You had a lot of Bliss in your system.”

She lay back against the pillows, holding back a sigh as she rubbed at the week old bruise on her chest.

“Didn’t take a shot of adrenaline to bring me back this time, at least,” she mused.

John stared at her quietly, watching her mess with the fabric of her shirt before moving closer. His fingers reached out to make quick work of the buttons of her flannel before exposing the injection site, skin mottled black and blue and yellow just above the “H” of her WRATH tattoo. She watched him quietly, trying not to let her quickened breathing make her chest rise and fall too fast to meet his fingers as he gently traced the healing bruise.

“She would have taken you down into her bunker and there would have been no coming back for you,” he told her seriously. “I don’t need to remind you what happens when you take in too much Bliss…”

Bishop’s brow furrowed, wondering what that meant for Burke. She had no idea if the Sheriff had arrived in time to capture him, whether her efforts were all in vain or not.

“Does Faith still have the Marshal?” she asked quietly.

John’s silence made her think he wouldn’t answer, still focused on tracing her skin with his fingers, having moved from the bruise to his own handiwork. Bishop failed to suppress a shiver as he outlined each letter of her sin, fingers dipping ever so slightly under the top of her tank top to reach.

“No, your Sheriff managed to get to him in time,” John offered up finally.

A measure of relief gripped her heart, though there was also guarded wariness at John’s words. Tracey had echoed similar sentiments just days before…just what could be done to help Burke? Could they jolt him out like they had with her? For a time, even she hadn’t wanted to leave, and she had been submerged in the drug’s grasp for far less time than the Marshal.

“When I was in the Bliss that time before,” she started hesitantly, still unsure about sharing. “I was with my parents in our old house. Just…sitting down at the kitchen table together for breakfast. Like we used to before… _before_ …it would have been so easy just to stay there and pretend...”

She felt John’s fingers slow in their course and she tried hard not to look into his face for his reaction. Her memory of the scene was playing back out in her head and she was suddenly reminded of a tattooed hand reaching out for hers across the table.

“You were there too,” she added gently after a moment. “Reminding me it wasn’t real and that I had to leave.”

John started, looking visibly surprised by such a confession. She felt her brow furrow in confusion, wondering why she’d mention such a thing in the first place. It had to be the lingering effects of Bliss – it seemed to remove her filter and made her say everything that passed through her mind. She was only just starting to feel the beginning stirrings of embarrassment when John leaned in closer.

“Everything that’s happened has brought you here back to me,” he told her happily. “In your heart, you realize that this is where you’re supposed to be.”

She didn’t want to rain on his parade with a protest of where she’d rather be…as much as being around him was filling her stomach with butterflies all over again, she couldn’t help but feel the stirrings of regret and pain that she’d probably caused immeasurable panic and distress with the Sheriff and Tracey and the others with her disappearing act.

“I’d much rather be here than with Faith,” she said honestly.

His eyes contained such a sudden intensity that she found herself unable to hold his gaze, averting her eyes shyly. A heavy silence fell between them that felt electric with possibility; Bishop could scarcely move, too afraid to break the spell and set forth something in motion. John’s hand moved towards the pocket of his jeans and she let her gaze follow the movement-

Her breath caught in her throat as he pulled a familiar gold star out from its depths; he held it thoughtfully for a moment before turning to gauge her reaction as he offered it to her. She couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling as she accepted it from him, thumb sweeping across the shield in a familiar ritual; she felt an immense calm and sense of relief wash over her after being denied such a comfort for so long. Tears sprang into her eyes that she felt no need to hide as she stared down at the words “JACKSON COUNTY – SHERIFF” glimmering up at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she clutched it tightly to her chest.

She made sure to turn and look him directly in the eyes so he understood - so he saw just what the gesture meant to her.

“Thank you,” she said again.

John stared at her a moment longer before slowly leaning in. She felt her breath catch in her chest as his hand cupped the back of her head and he pressed his lips to her forehead. Her eyes slipped shut as her body hummed from the contact, radiating pleasure and warmth in her gut as he gently tucked her head under his chin.

“I told you I’d give it back to you when we were face to face,” he reminded her gently. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something that means so terribly much to you.”

She didn’t know what to say in response, too focused on how his hand had slid down to rub her back as the other softly cradled her face. It was easy to get wrapped up in the velvety timbre of his voice, especially so close after so long conversing over radio.

“Give me time, Anna,” he asked of her. “I know I can show you why Eden’s Gate is the only safe path. You’ll see – you’ll understand.”

_What other choice do I have?_ She thought sullenly but kept her mouth shut, merely leaning against John and willing the butterflies in her stomach to stop tormenting her.

* * *

 

The food and water brought up to her was not by John after he left; Bishop had the sense to bristle and glare at the nameless Peggie who lumbered in and stared at her for a long moment before placing the tray in his hands at the foot of the bed and turning and leaving the way he’d come in. Her stomach whined pitifully as she stared at the bread and soup before her but she forced herself to take her time, knowing too much too soon would end badly.

The food was gone too soon but she was left with less of an ache in her belly to contend with and felt satisfied. With the removal of her hunger, however, came another wave of exhaustion and she couldn’t fight the urge to curl up amongst the pillows and indulge in a nap. The sun coming through the blinds indicated it was high in the afternoon when she woke again later, stretching and yawning and taking time to really view her surroundings.

Aside from the gigantic bed she sat upon, there was an enormous vanity across the room that she paused to stare into. She looked horrible – hair an absolute mess, clothes frayed and coated in dirt and grass…

Nick’s hat was nowhere to be seen, as was her Cougars pin; both had to have been lost in the confusion outside Faith’s bunker. She felt a brief pang of regret for having misplaced them both but reached for the badge tucked into her breast pocket and felt a wave of calm relief wash over her at its welcome presence.

_Sorry, Nick…sorry, Virgil_ , she thought softly as she trailed her thumb over the familiar worn path around the shield once more.

The thought of Nick and Virgil sent a wave of sadness crashing over her, realizing that she might never have a chance to see either of them again.

_Don’t think like that_ , she chastised herself. _This is only day one. Anything can happen._

So long as John didn’t take her back down into his bunker, there was always a chance to escape. She didn’t try and contemplate the mental turmoil such a thought stirred up inside and focused instead on the door off to the side that had to lead out to a balcony of some kind. Making her way over slowly, she reached out to try the handle…then thought better of it and retracted her hand.

There was a very high probability that there was a Peggie on the other side who would have spotted her and come running…and she wasn’t in any shape to be picking fights and running off into the woods alone.

_…Yet…_

Peering through the blinds for a glimpse of anyone outside, Bishop blanched as her eyes took in the sight of iron bars instead. _What in the_ -?! Was John really so paranoid about security around here? What was the point of putting so much effort into keeping people out of this place?

_Or keeping people in, in my case…,_ she realized suddenly.

Her stomach soured at the thought, realizing how stacked the odds were against her. John wouldn’t let her slip away again so easily – she knew that with certainty. If barred windows and locked doors were already in place in his home before she arrived, she dreaded to know what other measures had been taken since she’d been placed in his ridiculous king sized bed and left to sleep off the remainders of Bliss in her system.

Suddenly the thought of exploring wasn’t as appealing as it had been moments before. She was still so tired…any more bad news and insurmountable odds to add to the growing list of challenges she faced here would only make her feel miserable. Instead, she trudged towards the door that she presumed was the bathroom and let herself in.

It was enormous, as she should have expected; why wouldn’t John have the biggest and best of everything? A shower, a tub, double sink, closet space…she tried to take it all in as she seated herself at the edge of the tub and set about unlacing her boots.

Once free of them, she tossed them aside carelessly, stretching and cringing at how crusty all her clothing felt. She stripped off her socks and ruined flannel shirt, then her jeans and tank top, leaving her standing in only her bra and underwear in front of the mirror. Grabbing the bar of soap from the dish, she worked on breaking off a chunk of it before taking it to her clothes, scrubbing with vigor.

The sink quickly turned brown from dirt and debris as she cleaned, soap foam practically gray around her hands. She only bothered with a single clean and rinse of each piece, knowing her socks and jeans would require multiple washings to even come close to clean. When each piece was wrung out, she turned and draped it over the side of the tub before turning and tending to the next; eventually, she only had her bra and panties left and extracted herself from them to scrub and rinse before adding them to the pile to dry as well.

Taking care of clothes this way came naturally, falling back onto her time on the streets or even in some of the shittiest of the foster homes she’d been placed in. Washing machines and laundromats were out of the question, meaning you either dealt with dirty, smelly clothes or you improvised. Having to revert back to maintaining her wardrobe this way wasn’t such a big deal…but she realized how different her life had veered from normalcy when everyone she came across in Hope County complained about having to do their wash by hand since the Peggies took over.

John never had to wash his clothes in a sink or tub his whole life, she was certain of that…did he have to now that water and electricity were scarce? Somehow she got the feeling he didn’t – she couldn’t picture him bent over a washboard scrubbing his socks and underwear outside of the image she’d just conjured in her head.

She couldn’t help but snort at the thought, shaking her head with a smile as she padded towards the enormous shower further back and let herself in. The warm spray she stepped under felt like heaven and she sighed beneath it for a moment, tilting her head back to relish in the sensation. Her fingers worked their way up to the pitiful braid her hair just barely remained woven in and undid it, working out the kinks as gently as she could as she rinsed it of all the dirt, blood, and Bliss flower petals that probably hid within her thick mane.

John, unsurprisingly, had some very expensive looking hair products that Bishop allowed herself to look upon with a raised brow. She only ever invested in decent conditioner and even then, it was always something she could just pick up at the drugstore or corner market. He thankfully had both shampoo and conditioner and she liberally used both in her hair, wanting to eradicate the feeling of grime that felt like it still clung to her roots.

She didn’t even bother studying the soap she used to scour every inch of her skin, confident it was also expensive and would get the job done. Practically sighing with contentment as she felt clean again for the first time in ages, Bishop finally shut off the water and stepped out into the mist she’d created.

Grabbing a towel off the rack, she patted herself dry and tried squeezing as much water from her hair as possible before wrapping it around her slight frame. She poked her head out the bathroom door to be sure no one else was around before cautiously heading back into the bedroom. There was the dresser she’d observed earlier that most likely held clothes…but she was more focused on the door on the opposite end of the room that she felt certain was a closet. When she pushed inside, however, her eyes widened with doubt as she took in the sight before her.

_This…is bigger than my entire bedroom…,_ she realized as she stared at the seemingly limitless number of shirts and vests and pants hanging on either side of her.

John Seed must have owned more clothes now than she had ever had in her lifetime… she was suddenly leaping back to the thought of him having to wash his own clothes and realized he had no need to when he had 2 months’ worth of outfits readily on hand. She eyed the shirts closest to her with interest, reaching out to touch the fabric of one that shimmered slightly even in the low lighting. The second her fingers rubbed against the sinfully soft material, she knew without question it was silk.

The last time she had been exposed to silk, it had been as a little girl…pressed up against the fabric of her mother’s smooth nightgown as they cuddled in bed watching television together on a night her father worked late. The sudden memory brought forth a wave of homesickness and pain that left her heart aching, even as she continued to rub the shirt’s sleeve between her fingers and relished in the feel of it.

She took that one off the rack, not bothering to poke through the breadth of John’s clothes for anything else. Dropping her towel she buttoned herself up right there, feeling a shiver of delight race up her spine at the sensation of the silk’s softness against her skin. She’d never worn anything so comfortable or impractical in her life and she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about it. If this was to be her prison - as she presumed it would be for at least a while longer - then she’d take what creature comforts she could find in it.

By the time she dragged herself back to the bed and pulled herself up on it, she was already feeling sleep tugging at the corners of her mind. The comfiest shirt she’d ever worn paired with the comfiest bed she’d ever laid upon proved to be a dangerous combination for her efforts to stay conscious…but it wasn’t like there was a whole lot else to do sealed off in the bedroom as she was. She sighed and stretched as she sank into the pile of pillows behind her, looking towards the windows to take in the sunlight trying to peek through the blinds, badge clutched tightly in her hand as she fiddled with it absentmindedly.

Just as she was starting to contemplate giving in to the lull of sleep, the far door opened noisily; she turned her gaze from the window towards the intruder and saw John striding towards her, looking her over carefully. His gait paused momentarily and she knew he was suddenly realizing why the shirt she was wearing looked familiar. She watched his nostrils flare sharply for a moment and tried not to concentrate on the shuttering effect his pupils had as she gazed back as calmly as she could.

“Feeling better?” he finally asked.

“You might say that,” she offered up, hating how weak her voice sounded.

He stalked closer and she couldn’t help but feel like a deer being stalked by a wolf; she did her best to hold his gaze even as he sat himself down beside her, the warmth of his body mingling with hers.

“That color suits you,” John practically purred.

She flushed, feeling all but naked under his eyes. John’s hand splayed over the skin of her bare leg, fingers curling. Bishop couldn’t stop the goosebumps that formed under his touch, trying her best to suppress the shiver that threatened to race down her spine as she met his gaze once more.

“It’ll have to do for now,” she said, tilting her chin defiantly at him. “Just until my clothes are dry.”

He smirked as he leaned in closer, nose brushing against her neck.

“You can wear anything of mine you like,” he murmured into the collar of the shirt. “Take your pick.”

“…how generous of you,” she managed to force out as she contended with the sudden rapid beating of her heart. 

“I want you to be comfortable here,” he told her. “Whatever you need for your stay, tell me and I’ll be accommodating.” 

She couldn’t help but shiver as her mind seized on the word “stay”.

“…and how long will I be staying here?” she forced out, trying to put strength into her voice.

John pulled back to stare into her eyes, taking in the guarded wariness she was trying to conceal. Slowly, he reached out to cup her cheek, fingers gentle on her face.

“As long as it takes,” he answered finally. “I know if I took you back underground immediately - _like I wanted to_ \- you’d never come around. If this is the easiest way to help you understand what Eden’s Gate is preparing for, then I’m willing to meet you halfway.”

It wasn’t the answer she wanted…but she could breathe a bit easier. There was still time to be spent here at the ranch; John still intended to take her back into his bunker at some point but there was a window between then and now where she could work around the obstacles in her way. Making an escape from the ranch seemed impossible…but she was often good at defying odds. A little time to sit and plan wasn’t such a bad card to be dealt.

She didn’t like that she was left feeling conflicted about her schemes when it meant being parted from John once more…but she didn’t want to dwell on that now. Not when he was looking at her the way he was now.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he started to say, leaving her thinking she’d let her emotions show too clearly on her face. “But this is how it’s meant to be. You and I…God intended for us to be here together in this moment.”

And there he went back to divine plan…Bishop wanted to scoff at him and his beliefs but found she couldn’t when his eyes held such sincerity and excitement.

“I wish I could share your certainty,” she settled for, turning her gaze away from him.

John’s hands were on her face, turning her eyes back to him.

“You will, soon enough,” he promised. “Just wait and see…”

She watched as his eyes fell down to her lips and he leaned in closer. Her eyes slipped shut, face tilting up in anticipation…and felt confusion grip her quickly as nothing happened. Bishop forced her eyes open to stare at John questioningly, who was merely watching her with amusement.

“My, aren’t you eager?” he teased.

Eyes narrowing to counter the sudden heat in her cheeks, she took in the sight of his satisfaction and leaned forward quickly to press her lips to his pulse, lightly dragging her teeth across his skin. The surprised jolt she felt from him was immensely gratifying as she drew back to stare at him evenly.

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back.

His eyes held such hunger that it was all she could do not to tremble like a leaf before him, doing her best to maintain an indifferent expression. His hand on her hip, however, teasing just under the hem of the silk shirt had her lips parting reflexively as he leaned in closer.

“I can be patient,” he told her dangerously.

“…can you?” she asked, voice weak as his other hand slipped into her hair.

Bishop found she could breathe again once he slowly withdrew his hands from her and pulled back…but also felt resounding disappointment echoing in her chest.

“I can wait as long as I need,” he said. “There’s a long road ahead. Plenty of time for us to…”

His eyes wandered her body as he trailed off, leaving her feeling hot all over. Bishop swallowed thickly, wanting desperately to retort something back but too tongue tied to come up with anything in her head.

“Rest more, Anna,” John told her as he stood up, sparing her from a fumbling response. “I’ll have dinner brought up to you soon.”

She watched him march towards the bathroom and shut himself in; only after he was gone did she let herself noisily inhale and exhale, slumping back against the pillows in agitation.

What in the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

 

The moment the bathroom door closed behind him, John ran his hands through his hair, trying to rein himself back in.

All his boasting of patience and she’d very nearly unraveled him with a few soft touches and looks…she held such dangerous power over him that was both frightening and exciting. If only she knew the extent of what she did to him…she’d lunge for his throat without a second’s hesitation. He wouldn’t try and fool himself into thinking she mirrored the full extent of his feelings just yet; she still stubbornly clung to her misguided loyalty to the Resistance and it would take a lot of time and effort to have her come around.

Still, for all her dangerous ideology, he couldn’t help but delight in the way she behaved around him. How her pupils dilated when he moved in close, how she’d positioned herself for him to kiss her…and how hard it was to not indulge her and press his lips to hers.

_Easy_ , he reminded himself. _Slow and steady…_

There was time enough now to set things in motion. For once, everything was going as planned: his men were on schedule - working around the clock to move food and supplies into his bunker – the Resistance was weak and staggered by consecutive losses, Anna was with him again…

Calmed by the reminder of his hard work, he leaned over the sink and stared at his own reflection. One of his sleeves had unrolled in the time that he’d spent teasing Anna and he set about fixing it. It only sent his mind spiraling back towards the sight of walking in on her lying in his bed in one of his shirts, hair loose and wet down her back as she turned to stare at him…

If he was going to be trying to take things slow with her, he couldn’t allow himself to keep lingering on such thoughts.

His eyes swept the room as he turned from the sink – and landed on several items of clothing scattered around the tub. His brow furrowed as he drew closer to inspect, having missed them entirely upon entering the room. A flannel shirt and tank top lay in the tub itself, while a bra and pair of socks were draped over the lip…but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze from the pair of underwear lying innocently by the window, placed in direct sunlight to dry faster.

Anna looked up quickly when she heard him throw open the bathroom door and crossed the room in just a handful of steps. She had no time to prepare herself for the weight of his body pressing over hers, squeaking softly in surprise as he pressed his lips to hers.

John felt the tension of her shock dissipate as she reciprocated, mouth opening with a sigh that he took advantage of. He slipped her his tongue and felt her shiver deliciously against him, moaning as she tried to keep pace with him. Just as he could feel her start to try and surface for air, he moved his mouth down to her neck and started nipping and sucking along her pulse.

“What…happened to waiting?” she asked breathlessly, hands fisting in his shirt as she clutched him tightly.

“That was before I knew you were in one of my shirts with absolutely nothing on underneath,” he growled as he pushed her flush against the mattress and set to work unbuttoning her.

* * *

 

 

"You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you  
You let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you  
  
Help me I broke apart my insides, help me I've got no soul to sell  
Help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself  
  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
I wanna feel you from the inside  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to God  
  
You can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings  
You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything  
  
Help me tear down my reason, help me it's your sex I can smell  
Help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else  
  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
I wanna feel you from the inside  
I wanna fuck you like an animal  
My whole existence is flawed  
You get me closer to God"

 

_Closer, Nine Inch Nails_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I named this fic after the Nine Inch Nails song included at the end. Yeah, yeah, everyone uses it for John and the Deputy...but damn if it doesn't fit them! Him especially, haha  
> I feel like I should let it be known that I've NEVER written smut before...so we'll see how it goes, lmao. I'm a little daunted by it but hey, challenges in writing or art or whatever only serve to hone your skill!  
> A thousand apologies for the wait! I said this chapter would be up faster than it was...truth is, I'm trying to write, participate in Inktober for FC5, complete multiple projects for my teacher-sister's classroom, and work on the side. It's been real difficult to keep my brain focused on writing when it's being pulled a thousand different ways by deadlines, lol.  
> I am going to keep trucking with the writing and hope it's not too long of a wait between updates! Thanks to everyone for leaving kudos and comments, they really do mean so much to me! <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating changed with the addition of last chapter - this chapter is the reason why, just a heads up.

Bishop couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex before coming to Hope County.

It had been well over a year, before she’d left for the police academy; she’d been focused solely on her performance and studies, barely giving her fellow classmates a second glance, not even for a night on the town together. Moving to Hope County, getting laid still hadn’t been a priority as she tried keeping her head above water in the growing chaos that came from Eden’s Gate’s rapid, aggressive expansion.

John more than made up for her extended dry spell over the last few days: he was insatiable.

She had barely left their now shared bed except to shower and use the bathroom; John disappeared for an hour or two each day, presumably to make appearances at being hard at work…but he always came crawling back on top of her as soon as he returned. That “Lust” brand just above his pelvis wasn’t merely for show, she had learned: he had certainly earned it…

And anytime she tried bringing up the cult’s supposed rules – ‘no booze, no fornicating, and no wild partying’ as Hurk had described them to her so long ago – she was met with kisses and squeezes that morphed her words into moans, effectively silencing her.

It was strange being so intimate with someone again. After so long of waking up alone, each morning she was now greeted with John’s arms wrapped tightly around her, his body flush against hers like he feared she might try and bolt in the middle of the night. It didn’t seem to matter if she extracted herself from his embrace and scooted off at any point while he slept; when she awoke later, he was always right back beside her, trapping her in his embrace.

Bishop was surprised at how needy he was in the twilight hours – it was jarring when compared to the confidence and haughtiness he flaunted throughout the day. He had appearances to maintain, she supposed… It was a form of compliment then, she realized, to be the sole witness to the side of John he kept hidden from the rest of the world.

She lay wrapped up in his arms, smiling to herself as he pressed kisses against the back of her neck, working his way down to her shoulder.

“Mmm,” she sighed with satisfaction. “Is this your plan? Keep me in your bed the whole time? Cause it’s not a bad one…”

John smiled against her back.

“If only,” he said wistfully.

He surprised her by drawing away; she turned to glance at him over her shoulder and watched as he pulled the sheets back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“Tired of me already?” she joked as he marched towards the closet doors.

The smirk he threw over his shoulder at her was the only response she received before he disappeared into his wardrobe. Bishop flopped back against the mattress and spread out in all directions, relishing in the feeling with a soft sigh.

As fulfilling as the last few days had been, she knew it wasn’t going to last. John was still one of Joseph’s heralds and playing for the opposing team; as much as she knew he’d thoroughly enjoyed their time together, there was no denying that eventually he’d have to return to his duties. When he reemerged from the closet fully clothed, still in the midst of rolling up his sleeves, she knew with a pang of regret that that time was now.

“You’re leaving,” she stated with a pointed stare.

“I _do_ have work to attend to,” he told her as he walked up to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “The Collapse won’t wait for anyone to be ready for it. There’s still much to be done.”

She elected against making a face at that remark, knowing it would only lead to a headache. Instead she sighed and gave him a withering look for another reason entirely.

“So…I sit around here until you return, is that it?”

He sat beside her on the bed and reached for one of her hands to gently play with it.

“For now. Try and behave and I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he told her.

She sat up more, head tilting as she stared at him with squinting eyes.

“How so…?” she asked skeptically.

He merely smiled as he leaned in closer.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if told you now,” he said simply.

Bishop felt her mouth twitch upwards with equal parts amusement and curiosity, fighting against the impulse to smile. John took notice, his smile quickly transforming into a smirk as he cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. She let her eyes slip shut, languishing in his touch; when he finally tried to pull away, swiping a thumb over her lips as he did, she nipped gently at his finger. His pupils dilated in an instant and she felt a wave of excitement wash over her; however, it soon passed as he merely chuckled and shook his head, running a hand through her hair fondly.

“Temptress,” he mock-chided before stepping back and heading towards the bathroom to freshen up.

Bishop lay back against the mountain of pillows behind her head and sighed, pulling the sheets more securely around her. A day alone after so many wrapped up in John…she wasn’t sure if she was all that thrilled by the thought of it. It was easy to stay distracted when someone else was fully occupying her time…before John, it had been the entire Resistance and its endless fires that needed putting out, the countless civilians requiring a hand as they just tried to survive in the midst of the warzone, or even her friends tagging along and wanting help working through their own baggage and problems.

Reaching towards the bedside table, Bishop plucked her father’s badge off the surface and brought it towards her face, admiring its shine in the morning light. Her thumb circled it idly as she let her mind drift towards thoughts of her parents…what would they have thought of a cult suddenly taking over the county? How would they have reacted?

Her father, she imagined, would have felt the same obligation that Whitehorse had as sheriff and stayed put to maintain as much order as possible – but only after sending her and her mother away for their own safety. Her mother would have balked against such an idea and dug in her heels, ready to fight everyone and anyone who threatened her family and friends. Bishop had inherited both her father’s sense of duty and her mother’s spirit: there had never been any other choice for her but to stay and protect, try as she might to shame herself into thinking otherwise.

She’d made her bed and now she had to sleep in it – and just because that bed happened to be John Seed’s changed absolutely nothing.

When John finally reemerged from the bathroom, his hair was back to being impeccable, and his sunglasses and watch were already repositioned in their rightful places. She watched him from her spot on the bed, one foot dangling idly over the side; as he approached, she sat up and stared at him with an eyebrow raised in question. He leaned down to press his lips to hers and she eagerly responded, being generous in cupping his cheeks instead of ruining his gelled back hair or well pressed clothes.

After he’d made his exit through the main door, her mind flashed back to the countless childhood memories she had of her father ambling out the door and headed for the station; never once had he failed to hunt her mother down and press a kiss to her lips before stepping out the door. The thought left her feeling bizarre rather than wistful, ready to bury such a connection deep into the darkest recesses of her brain, face inexplicably hot as she pressed it into one of the pillows behind her.

Languishing in the soft sheets for a while longer, she finally forced herself to sit back up with a sigh. Lazing about wasn’t going to do anyone any good…and if she was trapped in here alone for hours, she might as well get a start on finding something else to occupy her time other than napping. She marched naked across the room directly for the closet door and let herself in. 

John’s closet had quickly become her own. She washed her clothes in the bathroom sink daily to get them back to wearable condition but still plucked a new shirt of John’s off its hanger and swathed herself in it when she finally rolled out of bed. He was much taller than her – just an inch or two shy of a full foot – and everything he owned was far too large for her, which still suited her just fine. Not like she was allowed to leave the bedroom for anyone else to see anyway…

It was silly, self-indulgence on her part, getting to traipse through his wardrobe and pick out something new every day…but she’d never been allowed to be so selective and extravagant with her clothing choices before. Besides, John wholly approved of her making use of his things; when she’d asked him about whether or not she’d be able to get some actual women’s clothes that would fit, he’d merely smiled and said she was making do with just his shirts perfectly fine.

Let him have his delights in seeing her in nothing but his button downs; she could be complacent for the time being. He had so many shades of blue, blacks, and grays…she’d been erring on the side of blue since she rarely sported color in her own wardrobe but if this was this first day to spent alone, why not fall back on old habits? Grabbing a charcoal shirt off the rack, she set to work buttoning herself up as she stepped back into the bedroom, wondering what she would do to keep herself entertained for presumably hours on end-

She saw the stranger standing by the door before he even had a chance to cough uncomfortably at the sight of her still dressing herself. He politely averted his gaze as she stared at him harshly, eyes wide and alert; without a second thought, she quickly crossed the room to the bathroom and shut herself in, slamming the door behind her.

Fumbling with the lock, she backed herself towards the shower as she furiously buttoned herself the rest of the way up. It took her a minute to regain control of her breathing, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

It was smart on his part, she knew, to post a guard on her when he wasn’t around but it still filled her with indignant rage. There was absolutely no trust in such a move - not that she'd given him any reason to trust her just yet, but with the way things were between them, he should have at least had the decency to grant her peace and privacy!

She was too angry to speak, let alone think, instead walking herself towards the furthest wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor. Glaring viciously at the door before her, she drew her knees up to her chest and crossed her arms over them.

Anyone tried coming through that door and all bets were off – John could keep his surprise and shove it…

* * *

 

_You’ve done well, John. The Project needs the tenacity and strength you’ve displayed – now more than ever._

Those words continued to buzz in John’s head long after his conversation with Joseph ended, leaving him feeling lighter than air. Finally – _finally_ – he was getting the recognition he deserved! All it took was for him to take matters into his own hands and put everything back on track for the Project in the Valley.

…And for both Faith and Jacob to start displeasing Joseph.

Jacob remained locked in a stalemate up in the mountains, unable to gain any ground against the ragtag Whitetail Militia that dogged his every step. He hadn’t suffered many losses but he’d also remained stagnant since the start of the Reaping and it was starting to strain both he and Joseph as time progressed quickly towards the onset of winter.

Faith, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling just to keep her head above water. The Cougars of the Hope County Jail appeared to have rallied and were busy tearing up operations in the Henbane River left and right. The Bliss may have extended its reach across the region but it wasn’t deterring the Resistance like Faith hoped it might…they still pushed back, even harder it seemed since they recovered the Marshal and lost Anna.

And Joseph was not amused.

John knew his own gains were merits of their own…but it made the praise and satisfaction Joseph now looked upon him with feel all the much more rewarding when he was elevated above either of his other siblings. He knew he was being dangerously prideful with such a line of thinking but he allowed himself to bask in the glow for as long as he could.

When he returned to Seed Ranch late in the afternoon, there was a new spring in his step that his men noticed, perking up as he strolled up the gravel drive. He took the time to give words of acknowledgment to everyone who greeted him even as he made a beeline through the house towards the bedrooms. There was a guard posted outside the door as he approached who knocked on the frame to alert his compatriot within, who quickly stepped outside to join him. As John dismissed the former, he turned towards the latter expectantly.

“Any trouble?”

“…not exactly.”

John gave him a pointed stare at his choice of words.

“What does that mean?”

“Well…she shut herself into the bathroom first thing and has refused to come out. Wouldn’t eat or drink anything brought to her and threatened violence against anyone who would try and speak with her.”

Barely managing to turn his laughter into a scoff, John shook his head at the imagery laid out before him, not doubting its legitimacy for even a moment. He should have expected as much from her…she was far too willful and proud to be shut away forever. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to have her holed away for only him to see and touch…but he knew eventually she would only become more obstinate and agitated.

And it would only push her towards thoughts of rebellion and departing forever…

He entered the bedroom to find it vacant and turned towards the bathroom door, still sealed shut. There was a plate on the floor holding an untouched sandwich; John had to resist shaking his head again at the sight, exasperated at her stubbornness. He raised a hand to rap on the door, leaning on the frame as he spoke through the crack.

“Anna, dear…”

There was the sound of footsteps on the other side before the lock clicked and the door swung open; Anna stepped out, looking up at him expectantly. He merely smiled down at her pleasantly.

“How was your day?” he asked patronizingly.

She said nothing in return, merely looking across the room with a glare. John’s eyes followed hers to land on his man standing by the door out to the balcony, watching them silently; with a dismissive wave of his hand, he shooed him off. After the guard made a quiet exit outside, John turned back to Anna and was surprised when she seized him by the shirt and pulled him down to meet her lips. Startled but not displeased, he wrapped his arms around her.

“I didn’t realize you’d missed me so much,” he teased between kisses.

“Shut up,” she snapped, nipping the corner of his lip as she fumbled with his belt. “I’m starving and I’m pissed.”

“You wouldn’t be hungry if you’d eaten what was brought up to you,” he noted, running his hands through her hair. “Dinner can be ready in a half hour, would you like-”

He stopped short as she jammed her hand down his pants and cupped him through his briefs, drawing in a sharp breath as her fingers teased him.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked slowly.

She knew what she was doing and he had to withhold a groan as she ran her fingers up and down his length; he couldn’t respond, ragged breaths stealing his capacity for speech. Anna could tell what he wanted to say based on his response.

“Then _shut up_ ,” she told him savagely.

John allowed himself to be manhandled towards the bed, trying to match pace with her aggressive kisses. He was pushed down against the mattress in another surprising display of strength that left him breathless; as he was recovering, Anna was already climbing on top of him, pressing her lips to his again. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his waistcoat as he let himself push the charcoal dress shirt she wore up past her hips to grab at her ass.

She didn’t bother with the buttons on his shirt, tearing it open with relish; he’d already destroyed three shirts she’d worn in such a manner and could only grin wolfishly at her tactic. His smile quickly transformed into a breathy moan as she leaned down to nip at his throat, planting kisses down to the letters of “SLOTH” carved into his chest.

John’s hands couldn’t seem to decide where they wanted to be, roaming every inch of her; he let one bury itself in her hair, enjoying the way she was making a slow descent down his torso a little too much, feeling his breathing growing ragged with anticipation. The other he dipped under her shirt and slipped past her panties, fingers rubbing against her slit. She was already drenched and moaned deliciously against him as he worked her, rocking her hips to meet his fingers.

Anna shuddered violently as slipped a finger inside her and worked a particularly sweet spot; abruptly, she was pulling his hand away as she rose back up to plant kisses on his lips. As she forced the ruined remains of his shirt off his shoulders, his fingers moved to unbutton hers. His eyes took in the sight of her admiring his bare chest and he felt himself swell with pride; suddenly impatient, he tore her shirt the rest of the way open, scattering buttons across the bed. Anna’s eyes narrowed at him.

“I liked this shirt,” she said frostily.

“I have more just like it,” he promised with a smile.

The hot smolder of anger in her eyes paired deliciously with the unhindered sight of “WRATH” across her chest as she shrugged the ruined remains off her shoulders and tossed it aside carelessly. John couldn’t tear his eyes from her breasts, hands already reaching up to fondle and squeeze them before she was even fully rid of her shirt. Anna threw her head back with a contented sigh, long hair falling down her back in waves; her hands rose to cover his and follow his every movement.

John circled his thumbs over her nipples, bring them to sharp points. Anna’s breathing sharpened, grip on his hands tightening as she pulled them down her torso to her hips. He groaned as she gave an experimental rock with her hips, grinding against him; his fingers dipped under her panties and gave them a sharp tug, causing Anna to stop and stare at him sternly.

“Tear my underwear and I will _not_ be happy,” she promised viciously.

“Then you better take ‘em off fast,” he warned, pulled at the elastic sharply again.

She swung her leg off him to yank her underwear off, tossing them as far as she could as if afraid he’d actually make good on his threat to destroy them. Her hands didn’t remain idle for long, reaching for his jeans and tugging them down his hips; he helped her, lifting his pelvis to let her pull them free. A moment later she was doing the same with his briefs, finally laying him completely bare before her.

Anna wasted no time in bending down and taking him in her mouth, causing him to arch off the mattress with a moan.

“Ahhh, fuck!” he let slip before grinding his teeth together, hands sliding into her hair and holding as her head bobbed up and down.

John glanced down at her sucking and watched her make eye contact with him as she took him all the way down her throat.

“Anna!” he practically whined, hands carding through her hair.

He was getting close to the edge – _too close_. He could feel it trying to ensnare him in its grips as Anna sucked rapidly, making his breathing erratic and uncontrollable; he pulled back on her hair to make her back off.

“Enough! Enough!” he growled.

She obeyed, crawling up to lean over him, licking her lips brazenly as she did. That did it – in a moment, he was pinning her to the mattress, bruising her lips with kisses. Anna wrapped her legs around him, gasping as he ground against her. Turning her head so he had full access to her neck, she whimpered softly as he bit and sucked sharply at the sensitive skin that had her shivering uncontrollably beneath him. His fingers dipped back down to her clit, rubbing circles that had her arching off the mattress with a gasp.

“Oh, John!” she moaned.

He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, drawing in ragged breaths as he steadied himself; god, he loved the way his name sounded from her lips… _especially_ when it was like _that_. The burning desire to scoot down and get her off with just his tongue was hard to ignore…but she was close, he could feel it. There wouldn’t be nearly as much satisfaction when compared to teasing and tormenting her from the start and having her legs shaking by the time he pushed over the edge.

He’d learned just a few nights prior what delicious sounds she made subjected to that form of stimulation – _at just how beautifully she keened out his name_ \- and would rather savor it in its entirety.

_Another time…_

She was bucking up to meet his fingers by the time he slipped them inside her, her chest heaving as she tossed her head from side to side. John took in the sight of the perfect “o” shape her mouth was making and knew he couldn’t hold back much longer.

As he was lining himself up, Anna surprised him by wrapping her legs around his waist and twisting him back against the mattress in a single motion, climbing back on top immediately. He might have fought her for control any other time…but this was the first time she had initiated any form of intimacy between them. Easing back against the tangled sheets, he could only gaze up at her as she lifted herself up and guided his cock to her entrance before easing it in.

An unrestrained groan escaped his lips as he felt her muscles contract and grip him tightly. Anna let out a long moan of pleasure that had him grabbing her thighs and pulling her down all the way, trying to maintain control of his breathing as she shook. She reached for his hands and brought them back up to her breasts as she started rolling her hips, moaning softly as he squeezed.

John threw his head back as the agonizingly slow pace she started with gradually grew faster; they were both close now and it showed. Anna’s hands lowered to run over his chest, fingers trailing over “SLOTH” and playing with the bunker key slung around his neck; his hands had already slipped down to her hips, anchoring her against him as she pulled him closer and closer to the edge. She leaned down to kiss him, hips still rocking relentlessly; he could only groan against her, hands gripping her ass tightly as he bucked up to meet her. Anna moaned into his mouth, hands fisting in the sheets on either side of his head.

“Anna,” he gasped, feeling his climax coming.

“John!” she cried out, shaking against him.

His grip on her hips was bruising as he came, sealing her to him as he reached sweet release, bucking up with a hoarse moan. Anna followed immediately after, crying out as she gripped him tighter; her hands moved to his shoulders to support herself as she took a minute to regulate her breathing. With a deep inhale, she finally swung her leg over him and rolled into bed beside him, stretching with a slow exhale as she shut her eyes.

They lay next to one another, soaked in sweat and panting softly; the silence that reigned between them was full of contentment and neither felt the need to break it just yet.  John took a few seconds to watch Anna there beside him before reaching over and pulling her into his arms. He waited for her to relax against him, pressing her cheek against his chest when she finally settled, and nuzzled the top of her head before he could stop himself.

It was still such a new and exciting notion that after sex he’d want to stay wrapped up an embrace with his lover. All previous partners had been nothing more than conquests in his eyes – means to an end to try and momentarily fill the gaping emptiness inside him. It had never lasted; by the time post coital bliss had faded, he was back to feeling nothing and left resenting the warm body lying next to his in bed.

Anna could never be just another conquest because she was indomitable; she had too much fire inside her that could never fully be extinguished. And John was content with that – delighted in it, actually. He burned with the intensity of her flame and couldn’t get his fill of it. That cold, dark emptiness seemed nonexistent whenever he was near her…he started to feel whole.

From somewhere outside the windows, the chords for “Oh the Bliss” broke the silence that had settled across the ranch; John couldn’t help but smile at how fitting a choice it was as he lay in a state of total euphoria, drawing patterns across Anna’s back idly.

“If I have to hear more of this shit Peggie music day in and day out,” she spoke up suddenly, voice taut, “I’m going to fucking lose it.”

He didn’t doubt her candor and withheld a sigh, shaking his head while still smiling, clutching her tighter.

* * *

 

Bishop had never put much thought into the time and energy that went into her hairstyles every morning… _until_ she had an audience watching her. Now, she felt hyperaware of every step in the process, her fingers feeling clumsy as she tried to keep track of each strand of hair in their grasp and where they were supposed to be woven next. John’s gaze was heavy on her as he lay behind her, propped up on an elbow to watch her finish up the plait and let it fall down her back.

“How do you remember what goes where?” he asked as he reached out to touch the fishtail gently.

“Lots of practice,” she replied simply, albeit truthfully before looking at him over her shoulder. “I could do something else with it if I had some bobby pins…”

It was a stretch asking for something so insignificant…she knew that no matter how genuine her reasoning may be, there would always be a suspicion in John’s mind that she had ulterior motives. She saw it even now, flickering in his eyes as he considered such a request. She’d picked locks with hairpins before, sure – but what good would that do her when she’d have to venture out into unknown territory, unarmed and unprepared, with countless guards patrolling and other security measures she wasn’t entirely certain of?

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he finally answered.

She merely shrugged her shoulders.

“No skin off my back if you don’t. It’d just give me something else to do in the mind numbing boredom of the day…”

 John sat up at that, a gleam in his eyes that she didn’t fully trust.

“How about something new then?” he asked conspiratorially.

Bishop narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Like what?”

He sat up and pressed up against her from behind; for a moment, she both feared and delighted that he was going to tear off her bra and underwear and push her back down into the sheets again. His hands merely curled into the bare flesh of her side and stomach, sending shivers down her spine and goosebumps forming on her arms.

“What would you say to be given a tour of my home?” he whispered in her ear.

 _Bastard,_ she thought with minimal irritation, trying not to give a physical response to his touch, knowing he knew exactly what it was doing to her.

“There’s something beyond this room?” she asked mockingly. “I had no idea!”

He smiled into her shoulder and she rolled her neck as he pressed a soft kiss there.

“You can get dressed and I’ll show you,” he told her before moving towards her throat to gently drag his teeth across her pulse, eliciting a violent shiver of desire to course through her. “Or we can stay in bed…”

She struggled to free herself from his grasp, already excited by the other prospect entirely. He merely laughed and let her go, watching her march towards his closet with a Cheshire grin as he lay back in bed; she ignored him, mind too abuzz with possibilities. Getting out of this room and having a glimpse at the layout of the land might be a once in a lifetime shot – there was no telling how John’s mind worked at times, he could very well lock her back in his room for the rest of time without a second’s notice. This was a golden opportunity to regain her footing and start working on a plan to-

 _…to what, exactly?_ Her mind questioned her as she paused in grabbing a shirt off its hanger.

Escape. That was the goal, as it always had been since her first meeting with John down at the river. Just cause they were now sharing a bed didn’t mean she didn’t long to return to Fall’s End and help finish what she’d started. It just…complicated things more, was all. Plus the conflicting feelings about not feeling so much confined here as having an extended holiday...

“I’m in way over my head…,” she muttered to herself as she slipped her arms inside the shirt’s sleeves and started buttoning herself up.

What happened if she and the Resistance emerged victorious? The best case scenario would be no more unnecessary deaths, that all the Seeds were captured and placed under arrest…but then what? Would she be content to have John behind bars for dozens of years, never to touch him again? What sort of path would be left for her after everything was said and done – what would be left for her here?

 _This is ridiculous_ , she found herself snarling internally. _You’re getting worked up and upset over nothing definitive._

The here and now was what mattered: and presently, she was being given a chance to do some potential reconnaissance and planning for whatever the future had in store. She couldn’t jeopardize that with her jumbled emotions that she _did not_ have time to sort through just yet. Straightening her collar, she set to work on rolling up her sleeves and exited back into the bedroom.

John was still lying sprawled out in bed, his eyes closed as she tiptoed past him and towards the bathroom. She’d already showered, brushed her teeth, and managed her hair so she didn’t waste time on looking in the mirror or fussing with herself; her eyes zeroed in on her belt and boots and grabbed them off the tub and set to work putting them on.

Her socks – try as she might to continually scrub them clean – still felt stiff with leftover soap that made her skin crawl but she forced them on anyway. Once upon a time her clothes had always been like that…she really had been softened by her access to John’s expansive wardrobe rather quickly. She sat to lace up her boots, cringing at the dirt and mud still caked to the bottom of them, before belting herself tightly at the waist.

The extra effort was most likely wasted – who cared if she walked around barefoot or not, or whether she looked like she was wearing a shirt or a dress? – but it seemed worth it once she returned to John and sat beside him expectantly. He opened his eyes and gave her a once over that made her shiver with delight as she watched him visibly brighten.

“No! Get dressed!” she demanded as he sat up to try and grab at her, just barely evading his hands.

“A half hour longer wouldn’t hurt,” he cajoled her.

“Now!” she insisted, back on her feet to put distance between them. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

She watched John’s face as he processed the words he himself had brandished at her just the day before. His eyes darkened with interest and she shivered as he rolled out of bed and stood to his full height; he came to tower over her, completely nude, and she struggled to keep her eyes on his face.

“How so?” he rumbled.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you now,” she parroted back.

Her fingers reached out to trace his hipbones, left thumb swirling across the beginning letters of “LUST” above his pelvis. She could feel his muscles growing taut and knew she could only tease him for so much longer; pulling back before he could change his mind, she stared pointedly at him.

“Get dressed!”

* * *

 

Waiting for John to get himself ready was excruciating; she’d almost fallen back asleep by the time he finally emerged from the bathroom and found her laid out on the bed. It was all she could do to hold onto her resolve after he’d crawled on top of her and started getting frisky; it took some convincing but she somehow prevailed and had him now leading her out into the interior of the house.

There were no less than 4 other bedrooms branching off from the same hall as John’s bedroom; Bishop was surprised there were only that many, almost expecting there to be another wing somewhere hidden off to the side.

 _One for John, one for Joseph, one for Jacob, one for Faith…,_ she realized after peering into yet another room and seeing a book lying on top of the duvet, the Project’s golden cross adorning the cover.

“All these bedrooms,” she noted as they stood in the doorway together, “And yet I’ve been bunked with you this whole time…”

John pushed her against the frame and planted kisses up and down her neck as she laughed, trying to convince herself that continuing the tour was more important than letting him shove her inside the room for a quickie…

Which ended up happening.

After they’d straightened themselves out, John pushed her towards the final room tucked into the corner. Bishop had no way to prepare herself for the sight before her when he opened the door and ushered her in; she could only blink in surprise, suddenly surrounded by a fleet of model planes.

Metal, wooden, and plastic fighters sat on every surface – some even strung from the ceiling, hanging lazily overhead. Her eyes roved the shelves on either side, each proudly displaying some aircraft she was only marginally familiar with. Approaching the tables in front of her cautiously, she placed her hands on her knees to bend over and inspect the planes more closely.

“Did you do all of these?” she asked with astonishment, leaning closer to inspect one that looked suspiciously like one of the Chosen’s rigs.

“Over the years,” he answered easily, clearly watching her reaction. “Something of a pastime...”

“I could never have the patience for any of this,” she said honestly as she moved down the line.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t good with her hands – it was more like it had been such a long time since she’d been encouraged to pursue anything in the arts and had long since given up on trying to master any of it. Her mother had been the one with all the creative talent: her artistry in writing and drawing eluded Bishop, something she’d long since come to terms with. It was only by some miracle that she was able to pick up on any of the culinary skills her mother had taught her…and an even greater one that she somehow managed to hold onto any of them during her time in foster care when cooing had become all but banished from her life.

She had always been more like her father, patience in simpler things. Tracking a cougar for miles with nothing but silence and cold wind in her face came easy – she’d done such a thing a number of times back in Jackson County for the local farmers having their livestock and livelihoods threatened. Much as she couldn’t see John ever having the tolerance for sitting out in the rain or snow for hours with little to show for it, she didn’t ever see herself ever being able to sit and put together something so delicate and intricate without becoming frustrated.

Resisting the overwhelming temptation to reach out and touch any of them, she turned to throw a glance at John back over her shoulder.

“This is very impressive,” she stated.

John, who she realized seemed to be assessing how far the shirt was rising up the back of her legs as she bent over, gave her a pleased smile. Stepping away from the displays before her – suddenly conscientious of her every move and afraid she might inadvertently knock something over – she made her way back to John in the center of the room.

“What happens to all this when the Collapse comes?” she asked with interest. “You planning on moving all of these down into storage or something?”

His pride seemed to vanish in an instant, replaced with disappointment and shame; Bishop felt her heart clench, upset at how easily he had deflated.

“No…only the essentials will survive,” he explained. “Any worldly possessions are a testament of this world’s greed and selfishness and must be left behind. They’ll all be lost when the world falls into flame.”

“Shame,” Bishop said quickly, shaking her head as she gave the expansive collection another once over. “One or two squirreled away wouldn’t cause any harm.”

Turning back towards him, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“I won’t say a word if you decide to sneak a few of them down there,” she whispered.

Mirth shone in his eyes as he smiled down at her and she delighted in bringing some of the excitement back to them. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head fondly before ushering her back towards the door and out into the hallway.

John led her the way downstairs and down the hall, opening the door for her to step through first into the main room. From a design standpoint, she didn’t know how to classify what she was standing in; there was a dining room table at one end and living room furniture at the other, a giant fireplace the only thing partially separating them. Bookcases lined the far wall as did several display cases, none of which piqued her interest; she balked at the taxidermy menagerie that seemed to exist in every corner of the hall, frowning at the trophy animals on display as John rattled off just how old Seed Ranch was and what went into building such a fortress.

She ignored everything else he was trying to point out and marched directly to the far corner holding the stereo that had caught her eye moments before. There were only a handful of CDs stacked off to the side and she tilted her head to read their spines. John quickly took notice of her wandering eyes and crossed the room to be with her.

“Shoulda figured you had shit taste in music,” she said as he approached.

“I do not-!” John argued instantly.

She turned to look over her shoulder at him slowly, smirking at the indignation on his face. His eyes narrowed before softening, a smile tugging at his lips as he realized she was teasing him. Stalking towards her slowly, he pressed himself up against her back, wrapping his arms around her from behind as he placed his chin atop her head.

“And what music would you prefer I have?” he questioned, his voice practically a purr.

Bishop felt a shiver race down her spine as his hands wandered dangerously. She swallowed thickly, remembering her words as best she could as he slid his fingers between the spaces of the buttons of her shirt and pressed them into the warm flesh of her stomach.

“Some classic rock. Eighties,” she listed, closing her eyes as she leaned back against him and focused on the swirling patterns he was tracing on her skin. “Seventies. Hell, even some old county – weren’t you from Georgia? How do you not have any country music?”

“I never cared much for country on the radio,” he explained simply. “Too grating.”

He wouldn’t get an argument from her there – she didn’t have much patience for modern country either.

“I guess any of this will be better than hearing the same 6 songs blasting outside on repeat,” she said begrudgingly after a moment.

She felt him smile against her neck before he finally pulled away, extracting his hands from the folds of her shirt. He startled her when he let one hand fall to her side and slipped his fingers between hers.

“Come on,” he said, tugging her along behind him towards the large doors off to the side. “There’s more.”

Of course there was – this place was massive. Still, she could only stare at their interlocked hands and couldn’t help but marvel at…well, at the normalcy of such a gesture. After everything that had happened since she’d walked in Joseph’s church and slapped those cuffs on him, having her hand held by John Seed seemed like one of the weirdest and most unexpected things to come about; it wasn’t bad, just…strange.

She didn’t know quite how to even classify…whatever it was that now existed between her and John. They slept together, they flirted…but nothing changed the fact that they were still on two opposing sides of a bloody, lengthy conflict. John clearly thought he could sway her - had said so in no uncertain terms – and was doing everything now not out of generosity but as a way to appease her and make her more compliant.

Bishop made a face, realizing just how ridiculous and fruitless a notion it was…and felt surprised at the sudden sadness that welled up inside her at such a thought. Something about his inevitable disappointment was unbearable to think about; dwelling on anything that might occur in the future seemed depressing in general, regardless of whether it was for a potential Resistance or Peggie victory.

 _One step at a time_ , she reminded herself.

They came to a stop in front of a pair of oak doors, shaking Bishop out of her thoughts. John pushed one open and pulled her inside before shutting it behind them; she stared around in interest at what clearly was his office, taking in the sight of the giant mahogany desk seated in front of a plush leather chair directly in center.  They were surrounded on either side by bookshelves and filing cabinets, all pristine and organized, few trinkets on display.

Bishop’s eyes took in the few decorations hanging from the wall and made her way over to them, letting her fingers slip out of John’s grasp. He let her as he made his way behind the desk and seated himself, fiddling with the equipment tucked into the corner. She stepped closer to the diplomas and certifications that adorned the wall, staring at the impressive university seals and scrawling ink signatures that looked like they’d been signed by an actual human being with a fountain pen.

When she’d gotten her GED mailed to her, there had been a hasty stamp-made signature pressed twice into the paper – the first lacking enough ink to be seen fully and the second almost illegible from the overlap.

As she stared at his Montana law certification, fingers reaching out to try and touch his name just out of reach, he called out to her; throwing a glance over her shoulder, she saw him watching her from his seat with amusement.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing towards the small tv on the corner of the desk. “I have something I want you to see.”  

Her brow furrowed instantly: nothing good could come from that…

“Come here,” he said again, beckoning her forward.

Bishop’s eyes narrowed; John was smiling but she was mistrustful of the obvious delight shining in his eyes. She approached slowly, arms crossing over her chest as she made her way around the desk. He pushed back his chair and she eyed him shrewdly, picking up on his obvious cue to sit in his lap and straining not to roll her eyes at him. Ignoring the gesture, she instead stood beside him and leaned forward to get a view on the tv screen in front of them.

She couldn’t begin to guess what he planned to show her – hopefully not some Eden’s Gate propaganda bullshit or torture footage from his bunker (she suppressed a shiver at the second thought, praying desperately he hadn’t filmed any of his time with Hudson…audio was already far too much). It was a security camera’s feed, that much she could tell. Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the black and white footage he was fast forwarding through. It looked like the inside of some warehouse…

The connection was only made as she watched a sleek, shiny plane wheeled out and replaced with a bulkier hydroplane. She didn’t need the image in color to recognize Carmina, having spent significant time both in and around her while hanging with Nick. Swallowing thickly, she watched silently as John finally reached the point he was looking for and set the tape back to normal speed.

His eyes were on her face as she tried to remain stoic and unaffected, despite the rapid beating of her heart in her chest. She knew what she was looking for and wasn’t disappointed when inevitably a small figure appeared in the lower right corner, creeping in through the side door with a pistol drawn.

“Now who could that be…?” John asked mischievously.

Bishop was too enveloped in memory to speak, remembering just how tense and frantic she’d been in that moment. She’d thought to check the corners both on the ground floor and the balcony above…but she’d completely overlooked searching for any security measures outside of Peggies stationed nearby.

 _Rookie mistake_ , she realized with an internal grimace. _And not just from a cop’s perspective – how many places have you broken into before? How did you overlook that???_

When it was apparent John was watching and waiting for a response, she made a show of shrugging her shoulders.

“Someone with guile,” she offered up simply.

“Oh, I’d say it took more than that to sneak in here and make it out alive with a plane in tow,” he told her. “When did you learn to fly? I can’t imagine you snuck in lessons in foster care.”

He seemed genuinely interested and eager for an answer and she felt herself flush profusely, cheeks burning shamefully.

“…once I got inside Carmina and got her to the end of the runway,” she admitted quietly. “And Nick started talking me through everything….”

She could barely hold John’s gaze as he visibly processed what she’d said, blinking several times in confusion before his brain finally fully processed her words. His mouth dropped open as he stared at her in astonishment.

“You came to steal a plane…with no flight experience or training…,” he said, sounding close to speechless.

“Well…I figured, how hard could it be?” she offered up lamely as she turned away from him, too embarrassed to continue looking him in the eye.

“You really are something else,” John finally said after a long pause, sounding both incredulous and impressed. “What were you planning to do if things weren’t so straightforward?”

“If I crashed and burned?” she deduced easily. “Well, it wouldn’t really be my problem anymore, would it?”

The light playfulness in the air evaporated in an instant. Bishop was painfully aware of John going rigid in his chair and kept her gaze trained anywhere but him as she considered the words she’d just spoken. John’s fingers suddenly curled around her wrist, drawing her gaze down towards his hand before following the length of his arm back up to his face. There was such emotion in his eyes that for a moment she could barely breathe; when he pulled her closer and down into his lap, she didn’t protest.

“I don’t want you _ever_ risking your life so carelessly,” he told her fiercely.

Her mouth twitched in the makings of a sad smile.

“It’s what I do,” she told him simply.

“You don’t owe anyone in that Resistance anything more,” he said. “Promise me you won’t do anything like it again.”

“…if you get your way, I won’t get another chance to,” she offered up evasively.

His eyes darkened as he pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her waist as a tight lipped smile appeared on his face.

“No, you won’t,” he agreed.

She could only stare at him as she draped her arms around his neck, watching the gears turning behind his indescribably blue eyes and wondered just what he could be possibly thinking in such a moment.

_Do you really want to know?_

Frankly, she didn’t; his vision for the future terrified her beyond measure. There was still such a mystery as to what the Project’s plan even was: what exactly were they even preparing for?

Her mind flashed back to the scene Joseph had shared with her inside the Bliss – the charred and dead landscape of Hope County, lit by an unearthly blood sky. The Collapse…what could cause such a future to unfold?

It didn’t make sense: how could someone be so certain of such devastation and horror when the world seemed to still be turning just as it had always? Outside, the sun still shined. Time still passed; as slow as it was, autumn was finally starting to truly kick in, browning the leaves on the trees and taking some of the warmth out of the air. There were still birds in the sky and what cows left standing were still out in their fields.

What could possibly be coming to end all of that?

Perhaps John knew and could enlighten her; he was a herald and Joseph’s brother, after all. But she had a feeling if she asked, he would launch into some sermon about God and His will and the Project being the only salvation left for the people of the county…and frankly, she couldn’t take that right now. Once down in the bunker had been enough - and that was back before she even liked him.

John had clearly been watching the thoughts flicker across her face as she tore herself from her dark, foreboding thoughts and gazed down at him. Letting her arms slip free from around his neck, she brought her hands up to cup his face, fingers threading through his beard. Her lips twitched in the makings of a smile; John noticed immediately, looking up at her curiously.

“What is it?”  
“Just picturing you without facial hair,” she told him honestly, using her hands to cover as much beard as possible. “None of you shave, is that it? I gotta tell ya, I rarely look for guys with this much beard…”

She watched as his eyes darkened with amusement and desire.

“And why not?” he asked curiously.

“Facial hair itches, it scratches - tends to inhibit certain…activities,” she said coyly.

As she brought a hand up to run through his hair, she paused and stared at his sunglasses for a moment; she reached for them instead and plucked them off his head, bringing them closer to admire. She wouldn’t dare wager just how much they cost…but they definitely were not off the rack from the corner mart like her last pair had been.

“Sounds like they didn’t know what they were doing,” John practically purred, hands sliding down from her waist to play with the hem of her shirt, which had risen dangerously high when he’d seated her.

“Perhaps none do,” she said as she placed his sunglasses over her own eyes, looking at him with blue tinged vision.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, clearly amused and pleased by the sight before him. A smirk pulled at her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck again and leaned in closer. John reached for one of her legs and swung it over his thigh, making her straddle his lap. His hands glided up and under the hem of her shirt and she shivered as she pressed her forehead to his.

“We’ll see about that,” he promised.

Bishop wasted no time in pressing her lips to his, feeling heat pool in her stomach as he responded just as eagerly. Her fingers went for the buttons of his vest-

A knock at the door made her go rigid against him. As she pulled back, John’s hands shot to her waist to keep her in place; the hinges squealed as a Peggie entered, arms laden with papers. His eyes rose from his delivery and he visibly started, taking in the sight of Bishop in John’s lap with wide eyes.

“S-sir,” he said uncomfortably, “The latest numbers are-”

“Leave them there,” John said, gesturing towards the desk. “Thank you.”

It was an easy dismissal, one the Peggie took quickly as Bishop glared a hole into the side of his head. She continued staring after him even long after the door clicked shut and she was left alone with John once more. John wasted no time in trying to pick back up where they’d left off, kissing along her neck; Bishop, however, remained tense in his arms, refusing to reciprocate. The mood had been effectively ruined with the reminder that they weren’t truly alone here – there were still Peggies swarming all over the property, like bees in a hive.

It had been so easy to trick herself into thinking that this wasn’t an arrangement she despised – might have been John’s intention all along, now that she thought about it…

To his credit, he immediately picked up on her stoicism and pulled back to look up at her; when she refused to meet his eyes, he reached out to gently grasp her chin and turn her face towards him. Bishop stared at him harshly before turning her eyes on the tv screen once more. The footage had long since run past her stealing Carmina and instead featured an empty hangar with several Peggies left standing around stupidly, all looking to each other for guidance. Suddenly, they all turned towards the entrance and seemed to cower; it didn’t take long to figure out why as a lean figure entered the picture, gesturing animatedly, letting his fury be known.

Bishop had to work to contain her smile as she watched the John on the screen chew out his failed security and felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her. She vividly remembered Nick telling her on the radio that John had been at the ranch when she’d slipped in and out…but being able to witness his outrage and fury was something else entirely.

 _Nick, I wish you could see this_.

John released his grasp on her waist to reach out and turn off the monitor, having followed her gaze and seen what held her attention; she took the opportunity to unseat herself, pulling at the hem of her shirt to regain some decency. He rose to his feet as well, taking a moment to button his vest back up; she watched him smooth his hair flat and finally thought to take his sunglasses off her face, holding them out to him. There was a brief pause before he accepted them back, his fingers grazing hers; she watched him place the shades back on top of his head before stepping closer, eyes holding a new spark that she knew should worry her.

“There’s still something else I want you to see.”

* * *

They’d breezed through the kitchen, much to Bishop’s disappointment; John was ushering her out through a side door before she even had a chance to poke around and see what he had hidden in his pantry or cupboards. She had the distinct feeling that if John was willing to overlook the cult’s supposed ban on sex, he had to be breaking at least one of the other rules as well. Given his own admission about his previous rock n roll lifestyle, she was certain there had to be booze hidden away somewhere. Another time, perhaps…

Bishop reveled in being back under the sun after so long, tilting her head back to enjoy its warm caress of her face. It was still very comfortable for late October…if that was the date now. She hadn’t thought to look for a calendar back in John’s office – it could very well be into November by now, making it even more surprising for how warm the weather remained. She felt a brief pang of regret course through her at the thought of having missed Halloween and tried to instantly smother such a frivolous disappointment.

It had been all Pratt had talked about leading up to the arrest…how the deputies all needed to have a group costume for when they got off shift and headed to the Spread Eagle. When Hudson had outright refused, he’d turned to Bishop and had a funny look in his eyes as he’d tried coaxing her into just the two of them buddying up.

 _A “Not” Couples Costume_ …, she remembered wistfully.

In all the confusion, it was easy to have Pratt swept from her mind. Was he even still alive? She’d heard his voice in a broadcast at the Baron Lumber Mill when she’d first met Jess and recruited her…but that was nearly a lifetime ago. What had become of him since?

If anyone would know, it would be John…but now seemed an inopportune moment to ask, especially when he was in such high spirits and indulging her in fresh air for the first time in days. He had her arm tucked under his – ever the gentleman –as they took a turn around the yard, approaching the hangar from the house.

The Peggies they passed all stood taller and prouder as they took sight of John…but seemed to falter when they saw her beside him and recognized her face. Bishop’s eyes narrowed as she glared at each of them in turn, daring any of them to say something. They wouldn’t, she knew: at least not in front of John, whose anger they knew to fear and had to realize they’d invoke by harassing her.

She felt tense, her arm suddenly uncomfortable trapped under John’s, as a growing desire to dig her heels in and rip herself out of his grasp gnawed at her gut. But she knew better than to indulge such a desire: John was finally offering up a tiny amount of trust in showing her all this and she couldn’t risk blowing it on something so trivial.

_Save it for something worthier and more gratifying…_

They were nearing the hangar now – Bishop had never seen it from this side, having snuck in from the river to the southeast the last time she’d been out here. There had been no time to really get a good look at the lay of the land once she’d started taxing Carmina out into the open; she turned her head and took in as much as she could from either direction. She vaguely recognized the runway from her escape, a bit too preoccupied with an alarm blaring and gunfire crackling off the wings before, now dotted with several Chosen planes seated and inactive; her eyes returned to the hangar and took in the operating tower that sprouted off to the side, having completely overlooked it before. Nick had said Seed Ranch was the only other airstrip for miles…but she hadn’t counted on just how well equipped it was.

It was nothing short of a miracle she’d managed to steal back Carmina and fly her back to Rye & Sons in one piece – if she’d attempted such a feat on a day like today, she probably wouldn’t have even had to worry about taking off…she’d have never even made it to the plane in the first place.

John led them straight for the keypad, releasing his hold on her arm to punch in the code. The metal door groaned and clanged as it ascended, exposing the inside of the hangar she had seen only briefly once before. Carmina had long since been replaced by another aircraft, shining even in the dimming afternoon light.

“Affirmation,” he told her proudly.

Seeing it in black and white, grainy video feed was one thing…seeing it up close was something else entirely. She’d seen it once before…that night so long ago when she and Burke were hurtling towards the border of Hope County in their stolen truck, Peggies in mad pursuit even as Bishop unloaded clip after clip into them. Then out of the night sky, a black raptor had descended and rained fire upon them, even as she futilely tried to shoot back and ward it off… 

“…yeah…I recognize it…,” she finally said softly. “…from the night of the arrest…”

She could still feel the heat from the bomb’s explosion and the sensation of being weightless in the air before the truck landed in the Henbane River and freezing water flooded the cab, burning her skin and throat as she fought to free herself. John jolted with surprise, suddenly looking unsure of himself as he took in her rigid posture and realized her mind was in another place entirely. Hesitantly, he reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, fingertips brushing gently up towards the nape of her neck; when she didn’t shy away, he buried his fingers in her hair as he put himself in front of her and tilted her head up to look him in the eye.

“Anna…everything has happened as it has for a reason,” he told her, sounding vaguely uncomfortable. “We must let go of our past…”

When she still appeared unmoved, he pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I won’t let anything happen to you now,” he promised. “You’re safe here.”

It wasn’t quite an apology…but his words held enough remorse that she softened in his embrace, pressing her cheek against his chest and relishing in the soft silk that caressed her skin. She felt him place his chin on the top of her head and they stood there in silence for a while.

“Later,” he finally spoke again, “when you’re more settled in, I’ll take you out in her.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the hangar and she let her eyes wander to the shiny metal beast sitting within. Despite her tumultuous feelings towards it, it truly was a beautiful plane. It was expensive, sleek, flashy…exactly like John himself.

Bishop was suddenly reminded of rickety, battered Carmina and how proudly Nick showed her off when she’d been returned to his hands at Rye & Sons. The hydroplane was far from top of the line and seemed held together by tape and glue at times…but whenever Bishop had been in the cockpit or backseat staring out at the rippling fields of the valley below her, she couldn’t help but feel safe. Carmina was warm, homey, welcoming…much like Nick….much like Kim…

Her heart clenched at the thought of the Ryes and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep tears at bay. John couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking as she stepped closer, slowly wrapping her arms around him in return; still, he welcomed the unusual gesture, crushing her in a too tight embrace that was as suffocating as it was reassuring.

* * *

 

Anna’s silence was worrying – as was her complacency - as John led her back towards the house, tucked carefully under his arm. He hadn’t once paused to consider she had remembered him pursuing her and the Marshal that night so long ago…that he’d almost killed them both and ended the ridiculous conflict they all remained embattled in now.

It hadn’t been for lack of trying that he’d missed delivering a killing blow: he honestly hadn’t been attempting to once he’d first joined the chase, merely plotting to frighten them off course and let the Project’s forces on the ground round them up. But when it had become apparent that they were making a clean getaway – that they very well might escape the county before it could be sealed off from the outside world – he’d had to alter his plan and dropped the bomb that had sent them flying into the Henbane.

Anna would vouch for her luck being what allowed her to survive the explosion and her dip in the river…but John knew better.

 _God protected her that day so that she might be here with me now,_ he reasoned. _Everything happens according to His plan._

In time, she’d come to understand that too. The Collapse drew ever nearer and when they were all safe and settled underground, Anna would be forced to look back and see that everything that had been done in the name of the Project had been for the safety and future of the deserving.

He turned to speak to her and found her growing rigid against him. But it wasn’t in response to him – she wasn’t even looking at him, eyes on the figure moving crates ahead of them.

“Mark?” she called as she disentangled herself from his arm and stepped forward.

The man turned to stare and stopped dead as he laid eyes on Anna, mouth practically dropping open. She stared at him a moment longer, taking in his shabby appearance with growing distress.

“Oh, Mark…,” she all but whispered.

John peered curiously at the man before him, recognition dawning slowly. He was a new recruit, harvested from Fall’s End over a week ago…but he was no stranger to the Project. His men had dragged him down into his bunker some time ago, throwing him into one of the rooms for confession after he’d incited trouble down in the communal holding areas. The very room that had been next door to Anna’s…

Ah, so they’d been neighbors in their time together down in his Gate – and had most likely escaped from there together. John’s mouth twitched with satisfaction, realizing belatedly that much of the damage done on that disastrous night was being righted. He had Anna again, the young man before him had been recovered and converted, more numbers filled the Project’s ranks to replace those who lost their lives fighting the Resistance…everything was back on schedule.

“D-deputy,” Mark rasped out in surprise, looking dismayed to see her.

“What have they done to you?” Anna asked, sounding pained as she stared at the tattoo stamped across his forehead.

Mark bowed his head, looking shamed as he lifted a hand to run across the healing cross and through his hair nervously. Anna stepped towards him, her hand outstretched as if to reach out and touch his face; John quickly intercepted her, capturing her fingers in his and pulling her back.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he cautioned.

Turning a cold stare on the man before him, he gave him a scrutinizing once over.

“Don’t you have work that needs to be done?” he asked tartly.

Mark quickly averted his gaze, instantly cowed by John’s attention. Never once looking back at Anna, he shuffled off in the direction they’d just come from; Anna turned her head to watch him leave over her shoulder, tense in John’s hands. When it was apparent Mark was no longer in her sight, she rounded back on John, fire in her eyes.

“Get off me!” she snapped, trying to fight out of his grasp.

“Stop it,” he insisted, refusing to relinquish his hold on her.

“Why are you so terrible? How can you all be so cruel?” she demanded. “Why can’t you leave people in peace? You rip them from their homes, their families, their lives-!”

“We are _saving_ them!” he cut her off, effectively halting her efforts to escape as she stopped to glare up at him. “They can’t see it now – they’re too blinded by sin – but once they’re safe from the Collapse in the loving embrace of the Project, they will understand…”

He released one of her wrists to reach out and tuck a segment of her bangs back behind her ear; she recoiled from such an action, still too angry to be assuaged by his touch.

“You will see too…once you have atoned.”

He watched the rage in her eyes die away, quickly replaced with horror. Her chest heaved with suddenly erratic breaths as she processed what he’d said and he felt a pang of sadness at being the cause of such fear. If only she could fathom what a gift she would be given once she was freed from her sin…

The pain was always what deterred even the strongest bodies and souls; Anna was no stranger to pain and had to know it would be fleeting in the grand scheme of things.

“I’m not looking for absolution,” she told him darkly, tearing herself out of his grasp. “Not from some god…and certainly not from any of _you._ ”

His eyes narrowed, feeling anger churning in his gut.

“Your Wrath is contagious,” he said darkly. “It infects everyone you come across. Atonement isn’t just for your benefit – it’s for everyone around you as well…”

Her eyes glittered with rage as she took a single, heavy step his way.

“I’m to blame for everyone’s sin, is that it?” she demanded. “I’ll own up to my anger; I’ve never tried to deny that it drives me. Maybe you should learn to do the same.”

He whipped a finger up to point at her and she lost some of her fire as she flinched and shied away. All at once, his anger vanished, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. He’d instantly recognized the response: it had taken him years to unlearn the reflex that came from being struck in the face…and even then, he’d never fully overcome it. His parents had backhanded him more times than he could count in their idea of proper discipline over the years, from a light hit that barely smarted to sending him sprawling out across the kitchen floor, stars in his eyes.

Anna had experienced the same violence – even worse, as her stories had taught him – and had just anticipated a strike from him. He lowered his hands and gently reached out to grasp her by the shoulders; cautiously, she opened her eyes and turned them back on him.

“I promise,” he told her calmly, “No one’s here to harm you.”

Her mouth twitched with a restrained snort, eyes still hard.

“Yeah, I believe that…,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

His hands slid up to cup her cheeks and she instantly fell silent, eyes darting from his thumbs and back up to his face with wary confusion.

“Souls never fully understand the weight of sin without suffering,” he told her. “But some suffer more than others…are forced to endure more than they can often take.”

His thumbs brushed across her cheekbones gently as he leaned in to press his forehead against hers.

“Haven’t we suffered enough?”

Her eyes flickered with a million unspoken thoughts, visibly thinking over her response.

“In spite of all I’ve been through,” she said finally. “I don’t try and turn my suffering needlessly on others. That won’t make the pain go away.”

Anna looked at him pointedly, clearly intent on continuing; before she had a chance, however, he was pulling her to his chest and crushing her in an embrace. She went rigid against him for a moment before slowly relaxing, though still remaining tense in his arms. John ignored her reaction, burying his hands in her hair and pulling it loose from its plait.

She sounded so much like Joseph, telling him what wouldn’t free his tormented soul…and she had no idea. Had no way of knowing she preached exactly what the Father did. She belonged with the Project, whether she realized it or not…

“I want to go home…,” Anna said suddenly, tired tone muffled by his shirt.

“You _are_ home,” he insisted.

* * *

 

John knew he should be appeased.

Work was progressing steadily in Holland Valley. In a surprise move, his men had seized the steelyard back from the Resistance…though “seized” was being generous (the fighters stationed there seemed to have abandoned it without prompting, either slinking off towards Fall’s End or the few other outposts they maintained under their control). With the metal from the yard, the bunker could be further fortified to withstand God’s cleansing fire when the Collapse was finally ushered in.

On top of the provisions flowing in steadily and the handful of converts that trickled in daily, Holland Valley was on track to meet the Project’s quotas – maybe even surpass the anticipated numbers. Things couldn’t be going better.

Things with Anna, on the other hand…

He always knew it would be slow work, winning her over and freeing her from her ridiculous commitment to the Resistance…but he wasn’t prepared for just how glacial progress would be. She was so hot and so cold towards him, swapping between anger and softness on a dime – it was exhausting trying to keep up.

But he knew of his own flaws…how quickly his mood could swing from high to low and back again. If he refused to be patient with her, what would his hypocrisy teach her?

She’d been distant from him since the night before, even after he’d tried making it up to her. When he’d wrapped himself around her and pressed kisses to her shoulders, she hadn’t rebuked him…but he wasn’t oblivious to how rigid she remained beside him, unwilling to reciprocate or soften in the slightest. At morning light, she was already up and dressed before him – as she so often was – and hadn’t uttered a single complaint when he’d left her confined to the bedroom once more.

Even in the wake of Joseph’s continued approval of his successes, it was hard to remain focused on his work in the bunker when his thoughts were all back home at the ranch. He’d attended to 3 atonements personally before scheduling the rest for another time, too detached to bestow the time and attention required for such a sacred act.

When he’d emerged from underground, the skies were as dark and ominous as his mood; the long drive down the mountainside back towards the ranch finally ushered in the rain that had been longing to fall, fat drops hitting the windshield as he parked his truck out in the driveway. Lightning split the sky as he made the short trot up into shelter through the front door, shaking water out of his hair once out of the storm.

One of his men stood on guard just outside the bedroom door, straightening up as he saw John approaching. He’d left instructions for them to stay posted at the doors at all times but to give the deputy her space, hoping she’d settle if left unprovoked. John gave a curt nod as acknowledgment but nothing more as he forced the door open and stepped inside.

He was greeted with the sight of an empty bedroom; not entirely surprising, he realized, given her self-imposed exile the other day when left alone. When he went to check the bathroom, however, and there was no sign of Anna there either, he felt a cold spike of dread settle in his stomach.

_Impossible..._

He crossed the room to the closet and threw the door open, searching for any signs of her hiding amongst the clothing lining the walls. Nothing – she was nowhere to be found.

Anger and fear seized him before he even had a chance to try and think rationally, pacing erratically in the closet for a moment before stomping out and heading straight for the door he’d entered through only a minute before.

_Everyone assigned here is going to be branded and stripped of Sloth! What was the point of all this security if they couldn’t even manage to keep track of one woman-?!_

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, quickly followed by a deep rumble of thunder; the sound sliced through John’s rage, making him pause in the doorframe. Something surfaced in his memory, a secret shared long ago down in his bunker during confession…

Turning slowly, his eyes fell on the bed before re-approaching it slowly. Another bolt of lightning split the sky, brightening the room as he eased down to his knees and lifted the bed skirt to peer underneath. There she was curled up in a tight ball, face discontented even while she slept. Thunder shook the ground outside as if to remind him why, making her fingers twitch unconsciously.

Reaching out to grasp her by the arms, he gently tugged her out from under the bed. She made a small, disconsolate sound and he shushed her gently, murmuring soft assurances in her ear as he gathered her up against his chest and stood. After she quieted, he made his way back towards the other side of the bed where she’d unfolded the covers, clearly trying to sleep there before she’d taken shelter underneath. He clambered on top, clutching her tightly to his chest as he eased back against the pillows with a sigh.

Anna pressed her cheek against his collarbone, sighing softly. At least in her sleep she wasn’t furious with him…she nestled so closely against him it made his chest swell with happiness. John rested his cheek against the crown of her head, listening to the rain pounding on the roof overhead.

“You are home,” he told her again, as if somehow her sleeping mind could absorb and accept his words. “We’re home…”

* * *

 

 

"Every now and then I fall

Every now and then I lose control

In your eyes I see your thoughts surrounding me

And I've a little bit of thought for you

 

 

'Cause every now and then I fall a bit behind

Every time I stare into your eyes

'Cause every now and then I fall a bit behind

Every time I stare into your eyes

Your thrills I find

It's not hard to be left behind

So I'll run, you'll hide  
We know better than to stay outside

You're cold and you're awake

 

You said I should have never of stayed

But there's no better place for me

'Cause every now and then I fall a bit behind  
Every time I stare into your eyes

'Cause every now and then I fall a bit behind  
Every time I stare into your eyes"

 

_ From Nowhere (Baardsen Remix) - Dan Croll _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I've never written smut before. If it sucked, I won't do it again, lol - i'll just allude to it. And if it was alright, then, well, i'll try and include it again. John and Anna are like rabbits so it's happening whether I put it in full detail or not XD
> 
>  
> 
> So...it's been a while. I don't like making excuses, i'll just say that October was a rough month for me. I'm hoping to put all that behind me and I promise to not have another wait like there was between last chapter and this one! Anyone still reading or following along, i'm so sorry for the wait and i thank you for your patience <3 I appreciated every kudo and comment between then and now, they really helped me out in some dark places. thank you <3


	8. Chapter 8

Doing another turn in front of the mirror in the closet, Bishop admired how the coattails dramatically spun with the movement.

She was loathe to admit just how much she admired John’s coat - especially on herself. It was far too long for her, practically sweeping against her ankles as she stood barefoot in the midst of John’s expansive wardrobe. And there was nothing subtle about it: from the tiny airplanes that made up the pattern on the fabric to the shiny gold buttons that each held a pair of scales, John’s second favorite motif. It was something she would have never worn before – could have never afforded as well, she suspected – but she found herself smiling as she tugged it tighter and admired the shape it cut.

“Having fun?”

Stiffening at the sound of John’s voice, Bishop did her best to turn and stare at him calmly. He stood leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her with amusement. She gave him a withering stare, trying to ignore how openly his eyes roved over her entire form.

“Gotta pass the time somehow,” she told him bluntly before turning back towards the mirror, staring at her reflection suddenly self-conscious.

She watched his reflection growing closer as he strode over to stand behind her, leaning over to rest his chin on the top of her head.

“It suits you,” he told her smugly.

Resisting the urge to smile at his satisfaction – she _was_ still mad at him, she reminded herself – she merely shrugged.

“A bit too flashy for my taste. But it has its charms…”

John hummed happily, burying his nose in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her.

“You’ve grown fond of it?” he pressed.

Fighting against the smile threatening to form on her lips, she merely shrugged in his embrace.

“You could say that…”

Bishop felt his hands spinning her around and she let herself be turned to face him; there was such warmth in his eyes that it made her heart swell. John certainly had his moments where she could justify her attraction and attachment to him - this being just one of them.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that yesterday he had extracted her from her hiding place and stayed with her for the duration of the storm. When she’d finally awoken, he was lying beside her ready to ply her with food and water. There had been no more talk of Mark or the Project or Atonement and after they’d had dinner, they’d crawled into bed together and lay in companionable silence, John wrapped tightly around her.

It was really hard to stay consistently mad and disapproving of him when he was doing his damnedest to woo her, whether he realized it or not. Quite astounding how his planned efforts seemed to backfire and yet his unconscious gestures did more…

John’s hands on her face drew her gaze up to him, meeting his eyes without trepidation as he smiled at her.

“Get ready to go,” he told her.

She couldn’t help the thrill of excitement and trepidation that coursed through her at his words, feeling her eyes widening.

“Where?” she asked.

He pulled her in to plant a kiss on her forehead before moving back to stare at her again, hands petting her cheeks softly.

“Be ready in 5 and you’ll see.”

* * *

 

She’d ditched the coat on its hangar and threw on her socks and boots in record time and was following John out onto the balcony a minute later. They wound their way back inside, descending the staircase into the main hall; John had her hand in his and she let him pull her along, peering around curiously for any indication of what was to come. There were a handful of Peggies inside today, either stationed by the front and back doors or dropping off supplies at the dining room table; Bishop stared at them harshly before John was pulling her gaze back to him.

“Can I trust you to behave yourself if you’re given free rein down here?” he asked her.

She could only blink in surprise, not having anticipated such an offering. It was surprisingly generous for John…and she knew if she blew her chance to make use of it, there would be no such courtesy again and they'd quickly come to blows over the already delicate tightrope they walked being overturned in such a way.

Merely looking at him from under the full weight of her eyelashes, she tried her best to appear to take it under consideration; the effort was undermined by the appearance of a Peggie in her periphery, instantly steeling her gaze as she turned to glare at him. The man did his best to ignore her gaze, looking to John expectantly instead. John’s fingers were under Bishop’s chin and bringing her eyes back to him.

“Behave,” he reminded her mock-sternly.

She had to resist the urge to scoff, instead giving him a hurt expression.

“Me?” she gasped dramatically.

He smirked as he stepped closer, pulling her flush against him as he sealed his lips to hers. For a moment, her heart fluttered in her chest; just as quickly, she became aware of the pairs of eyes watching them closely and felt alarm and embarrassment flood her veins. John refused to let her pull away prematurely, only releasing her when he was content. She was left blushing and simmering as he made his departure, trying hard not to let the Peggies nearby know how much their staring eyes affected her.

The second she was certain John was truly gone, she steered herself towards the bookshelves lining the far wall and inspected them thoroughly. Reading hadn’t been a pastime of hers for nearly 14 years – it was hard enough trying to stay focused or interested in the schoolwork and its assigned reading while in foster care…the thought of recreational reading had been laughable with everything else she’d had to contend with.  

Still, she’d found that libraries were one of the few safe havens a child could take refuge in, if only for a few hours; she’d spent hours reading the titles on the shelves and pulling the ones that looked interesting down to skim through. Given nothing else to do around Seed Ranch for the foreseeable future, she could see herself picking it back up, already scrutinizing the titles on the spines before her.

There were a handful of law books that she breezed past, as well as a glass case full of Eden’s Gate bibles and copies of Joseph’s Word that she turned her nose up at. John had a bizarre collection of material, ranging from fashion collections, hunting guides, classic literature, and (clearly) untouched cookbooks. Perhaps least surprising of all were the dozens of books on planes and aviation; Bishop couldn’t help but smile at them and plucked one off the shelf to finally go settle on the large couch with.

Spending an indeterminate amount of time looking at the pictures and diagrams, she finally found a brief introduction to controls and read them thoroughly. Everything she was seeing contained fancy jargon she had trouble following, but she was able to get the gist of it. And what she quickly realized was that she’d already learned much of what was stated in easier terms straight from Nick Rye’s mouth.

At the thought of him, her heart ached and she felt her mood plummet. How were the Ryes even doing these days? Were they still in Fall’s End where it was safest…or had they returned to Rye & Sons just a stone’s throw away? Even the mere chance of having them so close to danger greatly upset her, but also filled her with an unbearable sense of longing when all it would take would be to slip out of here and run a few miles southeast…

Glancing around suspiciously, as if someone could read her thoughts, Bishop surveyed the room. There were still guards posted at either door, lurking just out of sight, and no one else. Save for one man who came stomping in, arms laden with a heavy crate that he heaved to the floor beside the dining table. Bishop studied his back for a moment before recognition dawned on her.

“Mark!” she exclaimed, tossing the book aside carelessly.

He looked alarmed until he saw it was her approaching; just as quickly, he was throwing glances over his shoulders to see if anyone else was around to witness them. Bishop mirrored the gesture, despite having just done so seconds before; the room remained otherwise vacant, giving them a moment of privacy.

“…How are you?” she finally asked, unsure how else to begin.

She watched a dozen different emotions flicker through his eyes before he finally shrugged; her heart ached at just how defeated he looked.

“I’ve been worse,” he answered quietly.

Such an answer didn’t appease her; in fact, in only made her feel worse.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, holding his gaze as she did. “This is all my fault.”

He quickly shook his head at her.

“No, it wasn’t,” he protested. “You didn’t drag me outta Fall’s End kicking and screaming. You didn’t do this-”

Mark gestured at the missing chunk of flesh on his chest and then at the cross tattooed on his forehead.

“-or this. Please don’t blame yourself, Deputy.”

_I can’t._

She stared at him sadly, touched by his sudden display of backbone but unassuaged of her grief and guilt. If she hadn’t antagonized John that night at the marina, none of what Mark had been forced to endure would have ever happened. Almost as if reading her thoughts, he stared harshly at her as he continued.

“They were gonna attack Fall’s End again sooner or later, you have to know that,” he reasoned. “The town’s always opposed John, even before war started. Taking them out is always gonna be in the back of his mind.”

A shiver raced down her spine at those words, chill spreading across her skin. She knew that to be true from what Jerome, Mary May, and the Ryes had told her previously…but she didn’t like to dwell on such a thought. It was easy to forget how cruel John could be when he was showing her almost nothing but affection and his undivided attention, but part of her was still astutely aware of what he was capable of.

And the thought of him finally getting his hands on the Ryes, Jerome, or Hudson again….

Suppressing another shiver, she tried desperately to steer the conversation elsewhere.

“Are you alright, though? Do they hurt you?”

He seemed taken aback by such a question, looking at her warily.

“No,” he said finally.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” she assured him quickly. “I swear on my life I won’t speak a word of anything you say.”

He stared at her a moment before cracking a sad smile.

“I know you wouldn’t,” he answered, sounding nearly amused. “I mean it though – after my Atonement, they’ve been alright towards me. They’re still coming around to trusting me but all they have me doing is moving and loading supplies. I’m not important enough to be in charge of anything special or anything…I just keep my head down and they sorta leave me be.”

“That’s…not terrible,” she admitted begrudgingly.

There was a silence that followed that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but Bishop still felt compelled to fill it, sensing his pain and resignation. Spurned by emotion, she reached out and took his hand in both of hers; Mark blinked down at her fingers around his wrist before looking back up into her face questioningly.

“If you’re being made to work here, I’d like to see you as often as I can,” she told him forcefully. “You’re the only other sane person around.”

That got a genuine smile out of him, as well as a soft chuckle; Bishop couldn’t help but smile back.

“Maybe you can sing for me again some time?” he asked hopefully. “When we were down in the bunker, that was about the only thing that kept me going…gave me hope that we’d ever get out of there.”

Bishop felt her throat tighten, touched beyond words.

“I’m glad,” she offered up shyly, giving him a sideways glance as her lips quirked up on one side in a signature half-smile. “Yeah, maybe some time in the future.”

Mark’s eyes brightened and she felt a small measure of burden lifted from her soul at the sight.

“I’d like that,” he assured her. “Your voice is-”

Whatever he intended to say died on his lips as he stared behind her, eyes widening. Bishop took in the suddenly paling of his skin with alarm, quickly throwing a glance over her shoulder to follow his gaze.

John stood only 15 feet away, watching them closely. She felt her heart hammer in her chest at the sight of him and the very obvious anger he was working to control. Mark slipped his hand from her grasp, reminding her she’d never let go of him in the first place; as she watched him wring his shirt fretfully, John’s boots stomped across the floor towards them.

“Funny how every time I see you, you manage to be standing around idly…,” John noted as he came to stand beside Anna, glaring at Mark viciously.

Mark mumbled hurried apologies, swiftly gathering up the box he had been tasked with moving and skedaddled out the door. He didn’t spare Bishop another parting glance, even as she turned and watched him flee with despair-filled eyes. When he’d finally vanished from sight, her sadness quickly morphed into rage.

“You’re unbelievable!” Bishop snapped, rounding on John.

“I don’t want you associating with him,” he countered instantly, meeting her glare with one of his own.

“Oh, so you tell me to try mingling with Peggies and then turn around and say I can’t?” she demanded.

“There are plenty more devoted who can fill your time,” he insisted.

John didn’t trust Mark - not without reason, he was an unwilling convert – but it was more than just that. She’d seen the nasty gleam in his eyes when he’d spotted her holding Mark’s hand, how quickly they’d narrowed in anger…he was jealous.

 _Green’s not an attractive color on you,_ she thought bitterly.

Instead, she spun on her heel and stalked away from him, arms crossing over her chest as she headed for the couch. He wasn’t far behind, his footsteps loud and dangerously close; she ignored him as she stomped towards the couch and made to drop down on the farthest cushion. His hand ensnaring her wrist stopped her, whipping around to glare at his hand and then at his face.

“Get off me,” she snapped.

“This is ridiculous,” he said, anger still evident.

“Yes, it is!” she agreed as she shook herself violently out of his grip. “You can’t act like that around every man who’s friendly with me!”

She watched the denial in his eyes and felt herself fighting back the urge to groan aloud.

 _Tact!_ her mind offered up quickly.

“I’m not-!” he started to argue.

Bishop silenced him by stepping forward and grasping both his wrists in her hands. John stared down at her fingers attempting to encircle his arms and back up at her face in confusion.

“John,” she told him evenly. “You have to stop being terrible. For 5 whole minutes - can you not be a crazed, madman for that long?”

The outrage in his eyes answered her with a resounding “no”.

“You’re being absurd,” he tried brushing her off.

“The reason _normal_ people don’t like you and your siblings is because of how you act and treat others,” she explained tartly, releasing her hold on him. “You bully and terrorize everyone into bowing to your whims, all on the pretense of righteousness – if you had just left people alone, they might have still come to you willingly in the end.”

John merely scoffed, stoking the fires of her anger back into an inferno.

“They wouldn’t – and you know they wouldn’t!” he countered. “They’ll all stick their heads in the sand and perish if we don’t step in and save them!”

“ _Then that is their decision to make!”_ she shouted, not caring how loud she was getting. “Free will is what makes us human! You are denying them that!”

He laughed aloud, the sound cruel and harsh in her ears.

“Free will,” he echoed savagely. “So _now_ you want to talk theology?”

She glared up at him, trying not to rise to his bait; she was so close to throwing a fist and she had to concentrate on her breathing to stay her hand.

"What I want is for you to stop being an asshole," she said instead. "Until then, go find someone else to antagonize."

She stepped away from him as he tried to reach out towards her, not wanting him to touch her; she listened to him sigh noisily, running his hands over his face as he tried to backtrack.

“Let’s just…look, I came to see about having lunch together. Why don’t we go sit down and we’ll…,” he tried to coax her.

She left him speaking to thin air as she stalked to the couch and put herself as far away from him as possible; turning her gaze over the back of it and out the open doors, Bishop erased all possibility of having to look at him, sacrificing comfort for the sake of her wounded pride. John’s gaze was heavy upon her for a bit before she listened to the sound of his boots trudging away. As angry as she was, she wasn’t sure if she wasn’t feeling more hurt by his lack of an attempt at an apology; burying her face in her arms, she tried desperately to stave off the tears the begged to be shed, forcing them back down with cold fury.

* * *

 

Sitting rooted in the same spot since John had left had been torture. Bishop had long since lost interest in the aviation book from before – more incensed by it than anything, since it kept her thoughts lingering on John – and had it open in her lap more for show than anything as she stared listlessly at the inactive fireplace before her.

There had been steady traffic from the Peggies over the hours, bringing in more supplies, taking supplies out, or swapping shifts with the guards posted at the doors…and it didn’t escape her notice how their eyes all managed to linger on her. They all stared at her, like she was some sort of specimen on display – or a trophy. Some she was able to ignore, turning her nose up at them haughtily until they’d passed; others, she turned and met their gazes head on, challenging them to do more.

Most of them looked upon her warily or with anger – they knew who she was and what she’d been doing up until just recently. There were one or two, however, that gazed at her with outright disdain and it sent her blood boiling. Only John and Mark looked at her with warmth…and now it seemed she wasn’t even allowed to interact with the latter…

A female Peggie finally breezed through, drawing Bishop’s gaze up towards her. The other woman approached one of the guards and spoke softly to him, exchanging a short laugh and smile with one another. As she turned and caught sight of the deputy staring at her, the Peggie’s face lost all warmth as she gazed back with trepidation. Something else was in her eyes, though, that set Bishop off more than anything else: pity.

That did it – she was done. She waited until the other woman had left before tossing the book aside carelessly and pushing herself up on her feet, headed for the hallway leading back towards the bedrooms. Movement out of the corner of her eye drew her gaze back towards the Peggie guard who was making to follow her; she blanched before steeling her face with an icy glare. Of course someone had to tail her everywhere - not a single one of them trusted her. Not when she could get into all sorts of trouble left unsupervised…

_Well, they weren’t wrong…_

Still, her posture was rigid as she stomped back upstairs, hypersensitive to the presence of the man trailing only a few feet behind her. It was hard to ignore the weight of his stare on her back and not for the first time that day she was astutely aware of the aura of disdain he was putting off. Abruptly, she came to a halt, listening to his footsteps falter to match.

“If you’ve got a problem,” she spoke up coldly as she turned towards him, “Now’s the time for you to speak up.”

The Peggie looked surprised that she’d addressed him so frankly and stared a moment before narrowing his eyes at her. There was a long stretch of silence where she wasn’t certain he’d be bold enough to grant her a response.

“You are sin incarnate,” he finally told her bluntly.                                                                       

She couldn’t help but smile viciously at that.

“Am I now?” she asked with mock dismay.

The man met her glare head on with one of his own.

“You tempt John and lead him astray.”

“He doesn’t need my help with that,” she countered, delighting in the rage in the Peggie’s eyes.

“You’re not one of us,” the man said bitterly. “You refuse to receive the Father’s blessings, to accept his word…and yet John continues to indulge you. You’re a nonbeliever who leaves a trail of death and destruction in your wake with no sign of remorse. There’s no place in our garden for someone like _you_.

Those were some bold claims, she’d give him that much…though Bishop wondered if he would be so brave in voicing such thoughts if John or Joseph had been present? Anger coursed through her at his judgment and she dug her boots into the floor as she stepped closer.

“What’s your name?” she demanded hotly.

Dead silence greeted such a question. Her eyes narrowed but she kept her cool, a cruel smirk pulling at the corners of her lips.

“It doesn’t matter. I know your face,” she assured him. “I’ll let John know what you really think of our arrangement.”

There it was: the sudden look of fear that passed behind his eyes didn’t escape her notice, his confidence shattered by the mere mention of his boss.

“Or,” she continued quickly. “You never speak to me like that again…and this whole conversation stays between just you and me. Hmm?”

She watched the cogs turning furiously in his mind, eyes narrowing as he clearly wondered whether or not he could take her at her word. After a minute, he gave a single, sharp nod of his head – the only response she expected to receive. Nodding back slowly, she turned and made her way towards John’s bedroom, listening to the sole sound of her boots on the hardwood floor. She didn’t bother looking back at her guide, knowing he still stood where she’d left him, and let herself into her new abode and shut the door noisily behind her.

Only when she was well and truly alone again did she feel like she could begin to breathe easy. Inhaling and exhaling loudly, she walked towards the bed as she worked on loosening the belt around her waist.

 _I can’t live like this,_ she thought with dismay.

The nonstop exhaustion she felt fighting for the Resistance had certainly taken its toll…but she’d take being busy and worked to the bone over the mind numbing boredom and hostility she faced at the ranch. She hated it here – she hated everyone around her. Well, not Mark…and sometimes not John.

But how he expected her to become content with this arrangement was beyond her understanding. She supposed it was better than the alternative: being sent back down into John’s Gate to never see sunlight again….

A shiver raced down her spine at the thought of it, souring her mood further. Kicking off her boots, she tossed them carelessly on the floor beside her belt and curled up amongst the pillows. Not for the first time, she willed herself to wake up and discover this had all been an elaborate dream…wanting desperately to rouse in her tiny, uncomfortable bed back at her rented place instead of the enormous, lavish mattress she now shared...

The twin flames of longing and resentment towards John burned brightly in her heart, leaving her even more miserable as she hugged herself and tried to shut the rest of the world out around her.

* * *

 

A few hours had passed since she’d crawled into bed; judging by the orange and purple hues she could see the sky now tinged through the blinds, she’d guess it was inching closer to 5:30. Her stomach rumbled pitifully, reminding her of the last time she’d had anything to eat. She steadfastly ignored it, leveling her stare on the far wall and feeling more despondent and tired with each passing minute.

The door opening behind her made her go rigid with tension before relaxing, knowing only one person would come harass her now. She didn’t bother turning to look at John, knowing he would come to her; he didn’t disappoint, his boots clunking noisily across the hardwood floor as he approached.

“You say you want to be go where you please and it's made so…and then you come and shut yourself back in here anyway,” he noted as he came to sit beside her. “Your expectations are starting to bewilder me.”

She remained silent, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. His gaze was heavy on her back as he watched her, finally reaching out to touch her shoulder gently.

“Come on – we’ll have dinner downstairs,” he told her, clearly trying to make up for earlier.

“I’m not hungry,” she finally spoke, keeping her gaze trained on the wall.

“You’re lying.”  
“So?”

His sigh was heavy and drawn out.

“You’re being very childish,” he said disapprovingly.

“Does it look like I care?” she snapped back.

There was a tense silence that fell between them for only a few seconds.

“ _I’m_ hungry,” he said, impatience becoming apparent.

 _Who’s being childish?_ She wanted to shoot back at him.

“Go eat then,” she told him dismissively.

John’s irritation was tangible in the air, filling the room with tension. She refused to even look at him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her attention; she knew he was glaring a hole into the back of her head just from the weight of his stare and kept her eyes on the adjacent wall. The mattress depressed as he dropped heavily down beside her, folding his arms across his chest with a huff.

“Are you happy? We’ll both just lay here and starve together,” he snapped testily. “That’s going to do wonders for everyone’s mood.”

If she wasn’t feeling so low, she might have laughed at his behavior; it was akin to a child having a tantrum after not getting their way. John seemed to exhibit that a lot, now that she thought about it…probably hadn’t been allowed to ever display such childish emotion and had locked it away for years and years, only unleashing it from the depths of his psyche after he gained freedom from the Duncans.

Big mistake letting her thoughts wander in that direction: her gut twisted with anguish for him and she felt another wave of anger rushing over her. Before he could continue on complaining, she turned and buried her face into his chest, clutching him tightly. John stiffened beside her, clearly caught off guard, before slowly placing a hand on her back, as if wary of her reaction.

“I hate it here,” she snarled into his shirt. “I wish I’d never left Jackson County. Nothing strange ever happened there. Nothing except the occasional murder of the sheriff and his wife…”

Tears burned the corners of her eyes even as she blinked furiously to force them down. She _hated_ crying – more than just about anything else. The only thing worse was doing it in front of someone else; John had already seen her cry more than once and wouldn’t care, she knew. But it bothered her to be so vulnerable and weak before anyone else…she could never afford to be so open with her emotions in the past.

“Deputy Shaw told me before I submitted my application to the police academy that there was nothing left for me at home except for ghosts,” she continued. “Ghosts and painful memories…”

A bitter scoff escaped her lips.

“I got plenty of those here too it seems…I was never meant for happiness, bad things follow me wherever I go. It would have been better for everyone if I’d just stayed away…”

“Not for me,” John cut in sharply.

Her mouth twitched upwards involuntarily.

“You still think this is pre-ordained?” she asked quietly. “…You’ve got some pretty shit luck if you were always destined to be saddled with me…”

John was quiet for a moment.

“Some might say the same for you…”

The quiet, defeated tone he used made her heart ache; unable to blink back her tears, Bishop let them slip from the corners of her eyes as she clutched him tighter.

“Hold me,” she pleaded.

It was an uncharacteristic request, one they both had to be crushingly aware of. Still, there was no hesitation as he pulled her into a crushing embrace, putting the full strength of his apology in it; she pressed her cheek against his chest and listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat, letting it lull her tired eyes shut as she finally felt something akin to peace for the first time that day.

* * *

 

It was still dark when Bishop finally blinked her eyes open, vision still bleary with sleep. Her attempt to stretch was hindered by the pair of arms wrapped around her and she gazed up at John’s sleeping face beside her. He was still in the same shirt and jeans from the day before and she realized he’d never left her side since last evening. Her mouth twitched with equal parts sadness and affection, touched by the display.

_He never even got to eat dinner…_

Reaching out to caress his cheek, Bishop smiled as he unconsciously reacted to her touch with a sigh. She indulged him a moment before pulling herself out of his grasp and padding towards the bedroom door. There was a guard posted at the end of the hall – though thankfully not the one from the previous day – and he looked at her strangely when she appeared without John.

“Kitchen,” she said pointedly before setting off.

Not bothering to see if he followed her or not, she cut a course through the house towards the kitchen, thankful to skirt past any Peggies that might have otherwise been in the main room to accost her with questions or more stares. The sun was still struggling to rise over the trees, leaving the sky a dusky purple that she glanced at after she plundered the refrigerator for anything to make; Bishop was suddenly reminded of mornings not long ago – and yet seeming like centuries past – of making a quick breakfast alone at her place before leaping on her motorcycle and speeding off to the station in time for her shift.

It had been a long, long time since she’d ever made more than just for herself. Sometimes when she visited Shaw back home, she’d make a meal for the two of them, but those encounters became fewer and more far between as she’d gotten older. Even further back were her memories of Matt and how often he cooked for her instead…

Shaking her head of such distractions, she looked at the scant ingredients in front of her and gave a shrug before setting to work. Having eggs and milk – and having them be fresh, at that – was blessing enough with the state of everything. Beggars couldn’t be choosers so she went simple with scrambled eggs and just hoped John wasn’t a picky eater.

Making use of the pristine and expensive kitchenware had been a bit exhilarating, if she was being honest with herself – she had always had to settle for used and secondhand utensils and silverware that she’d either been given or picked up from thrift stores. There had been bacon and bread tucked away that she didn’t feel the least bit bad about making use of and had a respectable spread when she finally exited the kitchen and made her way to the dining table. The Peggie from before had been standing outside the door and looked at her strangely when she came back into the hall but followed her silently back into the main room.

John finally made an appearance as she was setting out plates she had admired in one of the cupboards; he looked at her strangely as he descended the stairs and made his way towards her, appearing as if he’d awakened abruptly.

“What is this?” he asked slowly as he approached.

“Breakfast,” she answered, gesturing at the plates set out.

John seemed to be assessing the whole situation poorly, staring but not seeming to actually see the spread of food. Bishop seated herself and watched as he did the same, still scrutinizing the plates and silverware as if he expected them to sprout legs and run off; when she scraped a portion of eggs in front of him, he blinked in surprise and seemed to jolt back to his senses, watching her as she slapped a few strips of bacon down beside them.

They sat in silence for a time, neither moving, and Bishop felt her eye twitch. John was staring at the food in front of him, not making a single move towards it…it took her a moment to realize why and she felt a flash of anger race through her.

_I practically live in his bedroom – what could I possibly have holed away to slip into his food?!_

Aggressively, she pushed her chair back to lean over the table and spear her fork into his eggs. He could only watch as she dropped back into her chair and glared viciously at him as she took a bite. Her eyes were already downcast on her plate when she saw John in her periphery finally reach for his fork and slowly dig in.

It was a quiet, tense affair…and not because they were busy eating. Bishop felt infuriated by it - she had tried doing a nice thing and John had to go and ruin it! – and stabbed sullenly at her eggs. She could feel his eyes on her but steadfastly ignored him, hoping he saw the brutality she was directing towards her food and took the hint.

He didn’t.

“It’s good,” he offered up finally.

She looked up from her plate to pin him in a withering stare.

“Figured you’d be hungry after skipping dinner,” she grumbled before reaching for a piece of toast.

John was staring at her and she again refused to return the glance.

“Thank you,” he said pointedly.

She did look up at that; my, he did have manners after all! Staring at him shrewdly a moment longer, she suppressed a sigh around her mouthful of bread and let her shoulders slump in concession. What good was there in holding onto anger so early in the morning? It would only set the tone for the rest of the day…and she wasn’t looking forward to another miserable afternoon and evening holed up in the bedroom.

“Sure,” she answered finally.

As she was setting her gaze back on her plate of food, she was surprised by John reaching out and taking her hand in his. Looking at his fingers curled around her wrist, her eyes swept up to his face in confusion.

“This was very thoughtful of you,” he pressed smiling at her warmly.

Something about the affection in his gaze made her face feel hot, making her anger dissipate rapidly. Damn his good looks – damn those hypnotically blue eyes!

“Don’t get used to it,” she answered weakly, looking anywhere but at him.

She turned her face back towards her food, trying not to dwell on how he still held her hand even as he went back to eating with the other one. They ate that way in silence for some time, a strange sense of domestic peace settling over the room. Just as she was committing to spreading her fingers between his, a Peggie came stomping through the door and approached the table. Drawing back swiftly, Bishop watched him stride up to John and speak with him in low tones; scarfing down her last piece of bacon, she watched John’s expression change quickly, a sudden sparkle in his eye.

_That’s not usually good news…_

The Peggie stepped back as John pushed his chair back and stood up; he faced her with a smile.

“Go get dressed,” he urged her.

She raised an eyebrow at his eagerness for her to leave but heeded the order, thinking better of trying to rile him up when he was suddenly in such inexplicably high spirits. Sometimes it was better off not knowing…

* * *

 

Taking her time with a shower and plaiting her hair, it wasn’t that much of a surprise when John was already back up in the bedroom by the time she was only just stepping out of the bathroom.

“You’re still not ready?” he asked as he sidestepped her to take over the sink. “Be ready in 5!”

She laughed her way to closet at that, knowing John took longer than her to get ready each morning and that he wouldn’t be ready in the timeframe he’d just allotted. Sure enough, she was already dressed and seated on the bed waiting well over 20 minutes before John reemerged from the bathroom and headed for the closet to change into fresh clothes. By the time he finally came to get her, she was laid out in bed pretending to be asleep, letting him pull her up on her feet with an exasperated smile.

They were back in the main hall a minute later, John pulling her towards the corner behind him. Confusion didn’t even begin to cover what she was feeling as he ushered her forwards expectantly; there was a record player now next to the stereo and a box stacked to the top with plastic cases and sleeves that she peered in at curiously.

For a moment, she didn’t know what she was looking at. It was a collection of CDs, vinyl, and cassette tapes and she stared at them a long hard moment before thinking to pick through them and read what was on their covers. When she finally realized what she was being presented with, her heart swelled in her chest.

Eighties, seventies, classic rock, old country…everything she had listed the other day made up the small cache of music she was sorting through.

“The Project doesn’t look too fondly upon outside music,” John spoke over her shoulder. “I had some men scour some of the homes in the area for what they could find…”

Such a gesture rendered her speechless. Turning to face him, she took in the guarded hopefulness in his eyes and all but melted; her fingers rose to touch his cheek and he trailed off.

“Thank you,” she told him earnestly.

For a moment, she considered standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to his lips; she almost committed to the gesture to, stepping closer to him…just as a handful of Peggies came stomping through with crates of supplies. She dipped her head and avoided John’s gaze, feeling tense with the other men’s presence.

“Thank you,” she repeated softly, eyes downcast.

John swept her bangs aside to press a kiss to the top of her forehead, leaving the spot where his lips touched unspeakably warm.

“I’ll see about finding you more.”

When he pulled her into an embrace, she didn’t resist, letting her cheek press against his chest while her eyes slipped shut. She tried imagining it was the two of them alone together again, blocking out everyone else in the background; the thought was far more pleasing than she ever dreamed it could be and let herself relish in it for as long as she could…

* * *

 

It was amazing what wonders good music could do.

The isolation seemed less unbearably oppressive when she was singing or humming along to old favorites to pass the hours. Even some of the guards posted at the doors got enjoyment out of it, try as they might to hide it: more than once she’d sneaked a glance over at them and found one or the other nodding their head or tapping a foot along in time to the music. She found the atmosphere to be so much lighter and comfortable and felt herself actually coming close to relaxing as she lay stretched out on the couch.

And yet…the weight of someone’s stare was becoming hard to ignore, making Bishop’s skin prickle.

She did her best to discreetly scan the room over her book, dipping her eyes back down to the pages every few seconds to appear engrossed. When it was becoming apparent she was overlooking her watcher’s presence, she finally gave up her charade and stared openly around the room.

She almost didn’t see her the first time, tucked away behind the banister of the stairwell. Bishop blinked in surprise, looking at the large brown eyes that stared at her curiously from over the top of a worn stuffed animal.

_A child?_

That had always been a question no one in the Resistance ever had an answer for: where were the children of Eden’s Gate? Pastor Jerome speculated they were all already spirited down into the bunkers – where else could they be? Bishop had traversed a great deal of Hope County and had come across very few children – and even fewer live ones…

Having a little girl, no more than 5, appear within John’s home was so utterly mindboggling that she didn’t realize how long she’d been staring until she was shaking herself out of her stupor. By that time, the child’s eyes had widened and glazed over with fear, unnerved by her attention. Trying to recover quickly, Bishop pulled a face at her and hoped it would be enough to assuage her.

She watched the child duck away into hiding and forced her eyes back to the book now in her lap; she gave herself a few moments to stare intently at the pages in front of her before glancing back at the stairs. Sure enough, brown eyes were back to peering at her through the rungs of the banister; pulling another ridiculous face at her, Bishop watched the wariness evaporate from the little girl’s body language as she came out into the open, even going so far as to give a little smile.

Tossing the book aside and abandoning all pretext of trying to read it, she shut her eyes and stretched out in all directions, groaning softly as her joints realigned with audible pops. When she’d settled and forced her eyes back open, she was greeted with the sight of the girl only feet away, watching her with a curious expression.   

“Hello,” Bishop said in greeting, giving her a warm smile.

“…hi,” the child replied quietly, ducking her head behind her stuffed dog.

“What’s your name?” she probed gently.

“Sue,” came the muffled response.

“Nice to meet you, Sue. I’m Deputy Bishop.”

Sue’s eyes widened.

“My daddy says there’s a deputy out there hurting people,” she whispered.

Bishop felt her eye twitch: _of course the Peggies were spreading that tale to their children…_

“I try and help people,” she said quickly. “It’s my job.”

_Well, used to be my job…_

Did she still hold the title of junior deputy now that she was serving house arrest here at Seed Ranch under the cult? That could be debatable…but not with some little Peggie child.

“How old are you, Sue?”

“4.”

Chancing a glance around at the empty front room, Bishop felt her brow furrow.

“Where are your parents?”

“Somewhere outside – with my brothers.”

So they worked here then, did they? Filing that away for later consideration, Bishop cycled through the other information presented to her.

“Why aren’t you outside with them?”

“Mommy and Daddy are busy and say we’re supposed to stay out of trouble. Ryan and Andy are out there playing…they don’t let me play with them…,” she finished sadly.

Bishop gave a genuine frown.

“Well that’s not right,” she sympathized easily. “What do they play?”

“Tag and wrestling and all sorts of fun stuff…,” Sue pouted.

“Well, I can’t go outside so tag’s not in the cards. And I think I’m a bit too big to be wrestling you,” Bishop teased, tickling the little girl and earning a giggle for her efforts. “But we could play hide-and-seek in here.”

Sue’s eyes widened with glee, the smile on her face warming Bishop’s heart instantly.

“Really?”

“If we stay inside, we can make it work,” she told her. “How about you go hide and I’ll count to twenty?”

She’d barely even had time to put her hands over her eyes before Sue was scrambling off, leaving Bishop with a smile as she loudly counted. It wasn’t hard to find her, as it often was with young children and hide-and-seek; Bishop made sure to do the same for her, being blatantly obvious with her first few spots so the games went by quickly.

It was amazing how quickly children could lose their reservations when presented with the right attention and stimulus: they’d started off no more than 30 minutes ago staring at each other silently from across the room and now Sue was hanging off of Bishop as she discovered her hiding place and pounced on her.

“You have pretty hair,” the little girl fawned as she touched the end of her fishtail with awe.

“Thank you,” she replied with a smile. “Maybe I can do your hair like it sometime.”

There was barely time for Sue’s eyes to widen and shine with such a promise; not a moment later, there was the thunder of footsteps trampling in front outdoors. Bishop tensed before she recognized the weight of such steps couldn’t possible belong to fully grown adults. Turning just in time to see them breezing past the fireplace, two young boys came hurtling in; they seemed to stop short once they saw her crouched on the ground but regained their nerve when they looked to Sue beside her.

“There you are!” the smaller boy exclaimed. “What are you doing inside, Sue?”

She seemed to shrink into herself, looking guilty.

“Been playing…,” she offered up softly.

The boys both looked to Bishop, who had been observing the exchange silently up until now.

“I’m Deputy Bishop,” she introduced herself.

Both boys’ eyes widened with slight trepidation – it didn’t escape her notice.

“One of you is Ryan and one of you is Andy,” she stated as she quickly cycled back through her conversation from earlier with Sue. “Which is which?”

For a moment, the silence was so heavy Bishop was certain everything had been derailed. Then, slowly, the older boy regained his tongue.

“I’m Ryan. This is Andy,” he said as he jerked a thumb at the smaller boy. “You already know Sue.”

“Our dad says you’re a bad guy,” Andy piped up boldly, even as his brother tried to silence him.

“Does he now?” Bishop asked flatly, feeling her mouth twitch.

Should it surprise her that she had become the boogeyman to the cult’s children? No, not at all…but it still made her shake her head incredulously at the thought of it. The demon that was the Junior Deputy, reaping the souls of the oh-so-innocent Peggies and sowing violence and destruction everywhere she went…  

“Well, my job is to serve and protect the people who live in Hope County.”

Pointing at each of them in turn, she gave a small smile.

“That includes all of you.”

“But Dad says you killed people,” Andy protested. “Some of his friends.”

“…that’s entirely possible,” she admitted. “But the cu- _the Project_ has done some very bad things recently. And hurt some people just trying to avoid all of the fighting that’s been going on. It’s my job to look after them so I’ve had to fight with plenty of people I haven’t wanted to.”

“The Father says the non-believers are the ones hurting people – hurting themselves,” Ryan interjected.

It was becoming difficult to stop the despair building in the pit of her stomach at their rhetoric: _dear god, they really are all brainwashed…_

“People on both sides are hurting each other,” she told them firmly. “It’s not as simple as ‘good’ and ‘bad’.”

“But Eden’s Gate is-“

“You know what,” she cut in quickly. “This isn’t a very fun thing to talk about! Your sister and I were playing a game of hide and seek before all this. You two are welcome to join us, if you want.”

The suspicion and disbelief vanished from the boy’s eyes instantly, replaced with excitement; Bishop knew she’d have to take what little victories she could and forced a believable smile onto her face.

“I’ll be the seeker. Stay inside, I can’t go outdoors.”

“Where inside?” Ryan asked as Andy practically bounced on his feet beside him.

_That’s not a bad question…_

“Downstairs,” Bishop cautioned. “Don’t go towards any of the bedrooms…”

John might not be happy to have children waltzing through his wardrobe or crawling around his bed – but her mind flew to the model planes in the spare bedroom and felt her heart clench at the thought of one of the kids finding them unsupervised...

“The office you can… _probably_ go in,” she said, jerking her head towards the hallway off to the side. “This room we can use, as well as the kitchen, the closets – _just don’t get locked in them_ – the hallways, the sitting room, the bathrooms…I think that’s about it. Should be enough room to make a game out of it.”

“Who’s ‘It’?” Andy asked quickly.

“I’ll be ‘It’ first, Bishop offered, having already been set to take the role after Sue last found her. “All of you go hide – you have until the count of twenty.”

She’d barely even finished speaking before they were all scattering in different directions, leaving her smiling to herself as she covered her eyes and started counting loudly.

* * *

 

John returned to the ranch with high spirits. Leaving that morning on good terms with Anna had made the rest of the day that much more enjoyable – he’d attended to a handful of atonements and two confessions and delighted in the prospect of strengthening his numbers. There had been no word of Resistance antics causing trouble and a fresh delivery of scrap metal from the steelyard had arrived at the bunker gates just as he was preparing to leave.

He strode through the front doors of his home with a spring in his step, looking around for Anna. The stereo was playing some of the music he’d had brought to her and he smiled as it greeted his ears…but the moment was short lived as he glanced around and found no other traces of his beloved deputy’s presence.

“Anna?” he called.

There was no response. Feeling a sick sense of déjà vu from a few days prior, he rounded the fireplace and glanced over the furniture around the coffee table where he’d seen her last.

“ _Anna_!”

Turning on his heel, he headed for the door leading back towards the bedrooms. If she wasn’t upstairs-!

“ _Hey_!”

The muffled voice stopped him in his tracks. Whirling around back towards the furniture, he watched incredulously as the couch cushions were pushed up and Anna peeked out from their depths.

“Keep it down!” she scolded. “You’re gonna give me away!”

John could only stare in bewilderment, for once at a loss for words. He was ripped from his thoughts by the patter of feet sprinting in his direction and turned in time to see three children racing through his home and towards him. They collectively skid in their tracks at the sight of him, eyes going wide as they lapsed into a strained silence that was only broken as the smaller boy caught sight of Anna in the couch.

“There she is!” he pointed out before racing over, joined by the little girl. “How did you get in there, Deputy?”

Anna sent John a scathing look as she struggled to free herself from her hiding spot.

“Thanks, John,” she said sarcastically before turning to the kids. “It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

The older boy skirted John to join the other two around the deputy as she sighed and stretched; he could only look on in silence at the new, unpredicted foursome.

“I’ll take the hit and be ‘It’ this time,” she said as she waved them off. “Go hide.”

She watched them scatter and made a show of loudly starting a countdown before quieting and turning back to John with a pointed look.

“Yes, dear?” she mocked. “You were looking for me?”

He couldn’t help but shake his head, laughing softly.

“These weren’t the Project members I had in mind when I suggested you be more receptive towards them…,” he teased.

She merely shrugged her shoulders at him, trying to look unaffected.

“They don’t irritate me,” she said simply.

He stepped closer to touch her face; she made a show of keeping her gaze averted but sighed as he stroked her cheek and nuzzled into his hand.

“It’s getting late,” he told her. “We’ll have dinner together down here in a short while.”

At that, she pulled out of his grasp, tossing him a glance over her shoulder as she walked away.

“If that’s the case then I have another round to finish at the very least,” she replied.

* * *

 

She hadn’t been joking – Anna spent at least another half hour with the children, flitting about the ground floor either in search of them or evading their eyes. John sat with a pile of papers, eyes flickering up to watch in amusement every so often as they bustled through. It was strange having children running about…not off-putting, just bizarre. He’d barely been allowed to fraternize with his peers growing up – and certainly not in the Duncan’s mansion, where just about all forms of play had been prohibited.

To watch three children racing about _his_ home was nothing short of surreal; he merely watched on in silence as all of them at some point took a leaf out of Anna’s book and tried hiding in the couch cushions adjacent to him. It wasn’t particularly novel anymore – all of them knew to check there – but Anna never did more than smile whenever she discovered one of them crammed down there.

The sky was already dark outside when Thomas and Meg Thorne walked through the front doors, looking around before spotting the children piled on the deputy.

“What in the world are you three doing in here?” Meg scolded, making them scatter instantly. “You know better!”

Anna was on her feet in an instant, staring at the woman forcefully.

“They weren’t causing any trouble!” she insisted.

Thomas sidestepped his wife facing off with her to make his way towards John.

“I’m sorry if they were a disturbance, John,” he apologized. “They won’t be underfoot again.”

“They were _not!”_ Anna stressed, starting to sound aggressive. “Tell them, John!”

Her gaze was on him as Meg still stared at her curiously.

“You’re _the_ Deputy?” she asked.

Anna shifted her gaze back to the woman, posture suddenly defensive.

“I am. These are your children?” she questioned, gesturing towards the three small faces who watched on anxiously. “They’re very well behaved, there was no issue.”

Meg’s eyes seemed to soften and she regarded Anna thoughtfully before extending her hand out to her.

“Meg Thorne,” she introduced herself.

Anna stared at her hand a moment and John felt a wave of exasperation wash over him when he was certain she’d refuse to reciprocate. She surprised him by finally accepting it, giving the other woman’s hand a stiff shake.

“Deputy Bishop,” she answered simply.

“ _Anna_ here has been keeping an eye on your children,” John told them both as he stood up from his chair. “They haven’t been any trouble.”

Thomas seemed to be giving Anna a thorough once over that she stood rigidly for, eyes hard and unapproachable. Finally, he slowly extended his hand out to her.

“Thomas,” he said gruffly.

Anna begrudgingly mirrored the gesture, giving him one good shake before releasing.

“Bishop.”

The entire Thorne family was a model of what the Project stood for: devout of faith, hardworking, patient and giving…if only Anna would be more receptive of them, she would easily see what Eden’s Gate was all about. Instead, she stood stiffly watching them with mistrustful eyes, even as John stepped closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Are you settling in well here, Anna?” Meg asked politely.

John didn’t miss the way her eye twitched at being addressed as such.

“Well enough as can be expected,” she offered up.

“Anna and I were just about to have dinner,” he cut in with a smile, hoping to head off any of her more antagonistic responses. “I’m sure she’d love to converse with you more some other time.”

Meg accepted that easily with a smile of her own; Thomas was still inspecting Anna and merely nodded as he placed a hand on his wife’s back.

“C’mon, kids,” he told the three by the couch. “Time to go.”

They all seemed to hesitate in spite of the order.

“Can we come back and see the Deputy again?” Ryan asked boldly.

Their parents seemed surprised by such a question.

“Perhaps,” Meg answered while Thomas went back to staring at Anna curiously. “If you’re on your best behavior, maybe she’ll let you spend time with her again.”

The boys seemed appeased by that, flocking to their parents’ side; the little girl, however, stalled and raced up to Anna’s side. Slipping out of John’s grasp, she knelt down to listen to whatever the girl whispered in her ear, a smile spreading across her face. Anna gave the child a wink as she scampered off after her family, reaching for her mother’s outstretched hand as they all exited the home together.

John watched them go before turning his gaze back on Anna, still crouched on the floor. There was a sad, wistfulness in her expression that made his chest tight; he glanced back at the retreating forms of the Thorne family, children chattering excitedly with their parents, and knew just how she felt, suddenly feeling some of the same painful pull at his own heartstrings. She accepted the hand he offered to help her up and instantly pulled her into an embrace; she didn’t balk at all in wrapping her arms tightly around him in return, face pressed into his chest as he tucked her head under his chin. They stood that way in silence for a minute, a calm otherwise settling around them.

“You better not have been joking about dinner,” she finally piped up. “I’m starving.”

* * *

 

“Do you always have your food made for you?” Anna asked as she stared at the meal laid out at the table.

John merely smiled at her as he pulled her chair out and waited for her to be seated. Raising an eyebrow at the gesture, she kept whatever comment on the tip of her tongue to herself as she seated herself and let him help push her in.

“I don’t have time to make every meal,” he answered her.

She made a face that he easily deciphered: _don’t have time or don’t know how?_ Still, she kept that thought to herself and silently surveyed the table once more.

“It’s weird having things laid out and waiting,” she said. “It’s been a long time since…”

As she trailed off, he didn’t miss the sadness that settled on her face; quickly, he reached out and took one of her hands in his. Anna’s eyes flickered to his and she gave a weak smile before gently squeezing his hand. She pulled away once he set about serving himself and passed the tray over to her; they sat in silence a moment before she reached for her silverware and inspected the chicken in front of her thoughtfully.

“We’ve eaten together a few times now,” she mentioned offhandedly. “And yet I’m surprised you’ve never said grace or anything…”

He gave her an amused smile as he started cutting into his own meal.

“That’s been more for your benefit than my own.”

He’d truthfully given up the practice once he’d gone off to college and escaped the reach of the Duncans; only when Joseph had found him again had he picked the habit back up. They still held prayer before meals when the family was all together…but he thought better of sharing that thought with Anna, knowing what her reaction would be.

They ate in companionable silence, each focused on the food on their plates. John’s mind was abuzz with possibility, thinking over the scene that had played out not long before. He waited a few minutes more before testing the waters.

“The Thornes are all devout followers,” John offered up casually.

Anna merely grunted to show she’d heard him.

“Spending time with any of them would help you have a clearer idea of the Project’s goals…”

The flash of annoyance in her eyes didn’t escape his notice as she looked up at him sharply.

“I don’t want to talk about any of this right now,” she told him plainly.

He couldn’t help but let out a huff of amusement and exasperation: _if not now, then when?_ She’d fully admitted in confession of only having fight-or-flight responses – and so far, her actions had staggeringly upheld such a proclamation. But you could only run or throw punches for so long…something had to give eventually.

Still, he was willing to appease her for now, having enjoyed an otherwise peaceful day and hoping to end the night on a high note with her.

“Alright, then what do you want to talk about?” he asked as he set his fork down.

Anna looked at him thoughtfully through the curtain of her bangs for a moment before letting her gaze wander all four corners of the room.

“What is with all the taxidermy around here?” she said, tone tinged with mild disgust. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone into hunting, for one thing. And for another, stuffed trophies don’t seem your style.”

John could only blink in surprise, wholly caught off guard by such a topic of conversation. To be honest, he didn’t put much thought towards any of the creatures that filled the room – they’d long since become background noise that he easily ignored. Now he found himself following her gaze, staring thoughtfully at the wolf she seemed especially displeased with.

“They were gifts…from Jacob,” he supplied after a minute.

He watched as she turned her gaze to him and stared critically, mismatched eyes scrutinizing him for a moment. Finally, she simply shrugged her shoulders and looked back down at her plate.

“They’re tacky. Jacob looks like he doesn’t have any taste, makes sense…”

John couldn’t help but exhale a short, amused breath, shaking his head at her subtle dig.

“You’re a hunter,” he noted. “At least you were before coming here. You never took trophies?”

She twirled her fork across her plate listlessly and he knew she was somewhere far away from the dinner table in her mind.

“It’s been a long time since I hunted just for sport,” she finally said. “But I was taught to respect and honor everything I killed. Use up every part you can, give away that which you can’t, and bury the rest.”

Using her fork as a pointer, she stabbed the air towards the cougar in the corner.

“ _This_ isn’t respect. It’s wasteful…and all it shows is someone’s ego over a kill.”

John thought long and hard over that. If he was being truthful with himself, that did sound a bit like Jacob: he didn’t view anything he hunted as particularly worthy, just as another challenge to inevitably prevail over. It didn’t matter if his prey was animal or human, they were all the same to Jacob – beneath him. John wouldn’t have ever claimed it was because of his brother’s ego…but now he was left to ponder how much truth Anna was actually unearthing.

“I heard all sorts of stories coming out of the Whitetails…,” she pressed further, drawing his gaze back to her. “Supposedly people up there just snap – turn on their friends and family at the drop of a hat. It’s not like the Bliss where there’s an obvious cause…just totally out of the blue.”

Anna’s eyes were on her plate as she toyed with her food – stirring it around lazily with her fork - but her attention was clearly on him, gauging his reaction and response; John’s hand clenched around his own utensil, suddenly on edge. There was nothing he could tell her about Jacob’s operations - not without compromising the Project’s interests. As much as he strived to change her mind and have her willingly join them, he knew she was fishing for information she could potentially pass along back to the Resistance. Even with how close and intimate they had become, given the chance he knew she would bolt the second he relaxed his guard around him and return to her warpath through the county.

Besides, he knew enough about Jacob’s methods to be wary, but was still in the dark enough that he truthfully didn’t have all the answers she sought. And even if he did…well, this day had gone so well. He’d hate to have ruined it with the fight she would have picked if he indulged her with any information.

“Let’s not talk about Jacob,” he said finally, setting his fork aside. “Or Faith. Or even Joseph. Let’s just keep this night between us?”

Anna blinked at him before visibly considering his request.

“Alright,” she conceded after a moment.

Silence reigned once more and John wondered if he’d ground conversation entirely to a halt by refusing to appease her inquiries. She surprised him by speaking up again suddenly, staring at his face intently all the while.

“How did you break your nose?”

Another question he was fully unprepared for; almost unconsciously, his fingers reached up towards the bridge of his nose and the bump that lay there before he caught and stopped himself. Still, he was quickly submerged in memories as he was forced to reminisce. They were hazy and unclear…it sometimes felt like trying to catch and hold water in his hands, only having success for a moment before they all leaked out of his grasp.

“I don’t fully remember,” he said quietly after a minute. “It was my father – my real father. He struck me, that much I do recall…”

The reason for the violence was lost to him…there never seemed to be any rhyme or reason for their father’s temper aside from how much he’d had to drink that day. He wasn’t even three when it had happened and he still wasn’t sure how much was his own memory of the incident and how much he’d conjured in his mind from Joseph telling him about it before they were separated and then later reunited.

“I remember Joseph coming to tend to me. And Jacob…Jacob stepping between us and our father…”

Joseph had wrapped his arms around him and tried to shield him from the sights and sounds of the fight unfolding between their father and Jacob. His face had hurt so much and all he could remember beyond the pain was Joseph’s soft reassurances in his ear and their father’s yells as he laid into Jacob.

“That’s one of the few memories I have left of our birth father. Not long after, we were shuffled off to foster care…then came the farm and…”

Falling silent, he stared down at his plate and tried not to dwell on the dark thoughts that had risen with those long buried memories. Too preoccupied in his own mind, he hadn’t even noticed Anna push out of her chair and come to stand beside him until she placed a gentle hand under his chin and turned him to face her. Blinking up at her in confusion, he watched as he stared at him intently before reaching out to lightly run her finger along the imperfection.

“I think it’s handsome,” she told him gently. “Gives you character.”

She leaned in to plant a kiss directly to the bridge of his nose, lips pressing softly to the bump. When she pulled back, her eyes were full of a tenderness he hadn’t seen her show towards him before…it left his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Before he could do more than reach out and caress her cheek, footsteps echoed loudly from the front door into the house.

All at once, the warmth in her eyes vanished as she turned her gaze towards the intruder, her stare full of ice. Stiffly, she reached for John’s hand and removed it from her face as she stalked back to her side of the table; instead of reseating herself, she stood rigid behind her chair, arms crossing over the back to look as sullen and unapproachable as possible as the man slowly approached John.

“Sir, there’s news from the Henbane…”

The man looked apprehensive, glancing discreetly towards Anna; John followed his gaze and saw her looking intrigued by what she’d heard, face quickly being wiped blank when she realized he was staring at her.

“Why not head to bed, dear?” he told her. “I’ll be behind you in just a minute.”

Anna’s eyes widened and narrowed in the span of a single second. Stiffly, she stood up and left without another word, making a noisy exit up the stairs as she let her displeasure be known. Only after she was followed out the door by an escort did John turn his attention back to the man, standing there wringing his hands.

“What is it?”

“Sir, it’s the Angels…”

John felt his brow furrow with confusion.

“The Angels?”

“There’s been an increasing number of them wandering into the valley from across the river,” the man explained. “Too many to be handled properly…and they don’t seem to recognize friend or foe.”

That wasn’t surprising, now that John thought about it. Faith was ramping up the spread of the Bliss in her territory – it only made sense she was also churning out more Angels. The lost souls who got put through her paces starting at the ghoulish lock up she called the Misery were subjugated to all sorts of horrors that John had never cared to learn all the details for; they all came out dead-eyed and soulless, minds gone but still tame to the Project members left to tend to them.

However, there were always random stragglers getting trapped and lost in the Bliss…those who weren’t approached by Faith and extended a hand. They fell into madness and became nothing more than wild, rabid dogs, tearing into anything placed in front of them. If the Bliss was being spread to every corner of Faith’s turf, it only made sense that Resistance fighters and civilians alike were falling prey to its grasp in growing numbers.

Still, it was troublesome. Even if it meant weakening the Resistance’s unsteady numbers, the threat undisciplined Angels presented was far greater than their benefits – if there even were any. It meant his men would have to be on the lookout not just for Resistance ambushes but also potential attacks from Angels wandering their way into his region. Faith’s men had done a decent job patrolling her borders every time he’d tried to seize Anna back – they had to know that Angels were making their way in droves into the valley.

The fact that there had been no word from Faith subsequent to her appearance at the ranch only added to his belief that she knew very well what she was doing and was content to leave John – and his men – in the dark.

“We’ve just got word we lost 5 men today to them alone,” the man continued during John’s lapse into silence. “It seemed prudent to inform you of the situation now before it escalates further…”

“Shoot them all on sight,” John finally told him, looking at the other man seriously. “There’s nothing that can be done for them. And the risk is too great for the members of Eden’s Gate to let them roam freely.”

Certainty filled the man’s eyes as he nodded, assuaged by John’s leadership and wisdom. All John could think of was how glad he was he’d sent Anna away to have this discussion in private – he could only imagine what her reaction would have been to such news…

* * *

 

Knocking on the door was redundant but John made himself do it, announcing his entrance so Anna wasn’t caught unawares. When he let himself in, he found her already laid out in bed, dressed in an oversized nightshirt with her eyes shut and hands folded on her stomach. She only cracked open her eyelids after he’d stripped entirely and was crawling towards her on the mattress. Watched him through her thick lashes, she did her best to appear unfazed as he reached for the buttons of her shirt.

John forced the shirt open, exposing her breasts and stomach. Anna watched him curiously, clearly picking up on the fact that his intentions, for once, weren’t fueled by lust. He couldn’t tear his mind from that moment at dinner when she had honed in on his most prominent scar, though the one most often overlooked…

His fingers easily found the large scar that stretched across her ribs and traced it thoughtfully. In the previous times they’d tangled in the sheets, he’d grazed it in all the groping and petting they’d engaged in but never put much thought towards it, too engrossed with the sounds she made and the pursuit of his own pleasure. Now he scrutinized it with interest, circling its jagged shape with his index finger. Anna’s skin pebbled beneath his touch and she shifted with an audible sigh.

“That…,” she finally spoke up softly, “…is from Ray Tyson.”

John’s finger paused in its movement, absorbing that information slowly. Ray Tyson…foster “father” who had beaten her horrifically and hospitalized her when she’d stepped in between him and her younger foster brother. His heart clenched with sympathy, dark memories of the Duncan’s beatings surfacing in his mind.

“One of the ribs he broke went through the skin,” she continued, carding her hands through his hair. “Scar never went away, even after surgery.”

She inhaled deeply as he resumed tracing its length, applying more pressure with his fingertip.

“I could cover it for you,” he offered. “Tattoo anything you like there.”

He felt rather than saw her smile, a soft exhalation of amusement escaping her lips.

“I’m not ashamed of it.”

“I wouldn’t expect you would be. But sometimes…covering it, putting something with meaning there…it helps.”

She turned her head to consider him thoughtfully, fingers slipping from his hair down to his shoulders, tracing the start of the tattoos that spanned his shoulder blades.

“Do all of these cover something?” she asked quietly.

He didn’t answer for a minute, too lost in thought.

“A lot of them do.”

They lapsed into silence for a time before John forced her nightshirt the rest of the way off, fingers exploring elsewhere as she lay just as bare as him. He knew to look for the other most prominent scar on her upper arm, an upraised, gnarled mark that seemed fairly fresh. Anna seemed to stiffen as he traced it, her body suddenly tense beneath him.

“What happened here?” he asked.

She hesitated with her response.

“I got shot…the night of the arrest. It was right after I escaped from the helicopter – everything was on fire and there was so much adrenaline rushing through my veins, I barely even felt it. I was so focused on running – on escaping - I didn’t even realize what had happened until after you took out the bridge and…”

Trailing off suddenly, as if thinking better of how much she wanted to share, Anna lapsed back into silence. Just as he was reaching out to pull her close, she sat up and stared at him with a peculiar expression. When she reached out to take hold of his arm, he let her, watching curiously as she turned it over in her hands, studying it closely. It took him a moment to realize she was inspecting his tattoos; she smiled, fingers trailing the planes that dotted his left forearm.

“I think these are my favorite,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Really?”

She smiled back, still tracing the tiny marks gently.

“They’re subtle…but still distinctive. Cute.”

“Cute?” he asked, sitting up to look at her critically.

Anna merely laughed at the expression on his face, forcing him to recline again with a gentle push of her hand.

“My second favorite are the wings,” she told him as she trailed a finger up the length of his arm to poke at his collarbone, indicating the pair across his shoulder blades that were pressed into the pillow behind him. “Not very subtle, but beautiful.”

Her eyes gained a certain sadness as she looked at him strangely.

“They suit you...”

As he was still trying to decipher what she meant, her eyes were back on his arm, fingers running up towards his wrist to take into her grasp.

“What do these say?” she questioned, looking at the Latin inscribed on the back of his hand.

 “Sins,” he told her as he looked at where she was dragging her finger back and forth. “Lust…”

She gave him a smirk before moving on to the next in line.

“Gluttony…Greed…Despair…”

He watched as she reacted with visible surprise.

“Despair?” she echoed.

“It used to be one back when there were eight,” he told her, taking far too much enjoyment in how she held his hand in both of hers.

The shock faded from her eyes as she smiled cheekily at him.

“I might have the wrong sin on my chest, then…”

He merely chuckled in response – he knew that feeling only too well.

“Which one is Wrath?” she asked curiously.

“Ira,” he said, watching as she moved her finger down to trace the word.

Anna was silent for a moment, looking at his hand thoughtfully before pulling it up to her chest.

“Couldn’t have put Ira here instead?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye as she splayed his fingers across her tattoo. “That might have spared us some time.”

John couldn’t help but smile, tracing the letters he’d carved into her seemingly so long ago with reverence.

“We wouldn’t be the way we are now if confession had been cut short,” he told her.

Merely humming in agreement, she traced patterns over the back of his hands with her thumbs idly. Her fingertips soon trailed his knuckles, seeking out the raised bumps that he’d sought so hard to cover.

“I took a ruler there more often than not,” he told her without prompting, feeling his gut clench as he tried suppressing the memories that came rushing back to him. “Sometimes worse…”

Anna stared at him for a long moment before transferring her gaze back to his knuckles. Abruptly, she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to the skin; when she pulled back, she looked him right in the eye, holding his knuckles to her cheek. John’s heart clenched; such a seemingly small gesture, but it spoke volumes. He’d never let anyone get close enough to unearth such closely guarded secrets…to then expose them and be met with such tender understanding and compassion was more than he could have ever hoped for.

“This one here,” he said, voice hush as he pointed to a small, raised mark on his side, “came from one of my mother’s rings. The diamond sliced me open.”

Setting his hand down, Anna moved closer to hover over him; fingers tracing the scar a moment, she leaned down to press her lips to it gently, eliciting a pleased shiver out of John. He felt her linger a moment, fingers trailing along his side.

“Most of mine are on my back,” she told him gently.

“Mine too.”

Her fingers slipped behind him and urged him to roll over; he obeyed, folding his arms to rest his chin on as she gazed down the expanse of his back. Fingertips toying with the numerous and very obvious scars that littered his skin, he felt a change in her touch that indicated for a moment she was miles away.

“Belt buckle?” she asked as she traced one of the largest and most upraised marks.

He nodded to himself, trying not to let himself be dragged back into _those_ memories.

“My father had a decorative one…very large…”

The feel of her lips on his skin silenced him and he buried his face in his arms to revel in the feeling. Over and over, she placed soft kisses on all the marks he hated looking upon and he felt the tension evaporate from his shoulders. Not quite catharsis…but something close to it. Even after she’d covered every scar, she continued placing kisses from the base of his spine up to his neck, lingering across his shoulder blades.

“You know…,” she said softly. “I really didn’t mind those kids coming in to see me earlier…”

John’s mind had to backtrack rapidly to understand what she was referencing.

“Hmm,” he finally answered indifferently.

“They made the day go quicker,” she continued, dragging her teeth gently along his shoulder in a soft nip before kissing the same spot forcefully. “Entertaining them gave me something to do…”

“Is that what you were doing?” he asked with amusement, smiling into his arms.

Abruptly, he was being pushed onto his back; he helped in rolling himself over, staring up at Anna as she crawled on top of him, propping herself up on her hands as she looked down at him.

“It’s just a thought,” she said coaxingly. “But if they made an appearance now and then, I wouldn’t object to it…”

“I’ll take it under consideration,” he said.

Looking down at him thoughtfully, she leaned in closer to hover just a hair’s breadth away.

“I hope you do,” she said encouragingly before kissing him.

John’s hands were just reaching up to embrace her as she pulled away, moving down to kiss and nip at his neck and collarbones. Sighing in contentment, he let his eyes slip shut and focused on the feeling of her lips and the way her fingers swirled patterns idly into his sides.

How had he gone so long in life without this? There was never going back to the way things were before – not when he was now living in such unadulterated happiness and pleasure.

His breathing quickened as her kisses trailed down lower and lower and lower…stopping to linger on “LUST” carved between his hipbones. Fingers tangling in her hair, he threw his head back as she dragged her tongue across the letters, giving them one last kiss before descending further…

* * *

 

 

"So long  
I've been looking too hard  
I've been waiting too long  
Sometimes I don't know what I will find  
I only know it's a matter of time  
When you love someone  
When you love someone  
  
It feels so right, so warm and true  
I need to know if you feel it too  
  
Maybe I'm wrong  
Won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong  
This heart of mine has been hurt before  
This time I wanna be sure  
  
I've been waiting for a girl like you  
To come into my life  
I've been waiting for a girl like you  
A love that will survive  
I've been waiting for someone new  
To make me feel alive  
Yeah, waiting for a girl like you  
To come into my life  
  
You're so good  
When we make love  
It's understood  
It's more than a touch or a word we say  
Only in dreams could it be this way  
When you love someone  
Yeah, really love someone  
  
Now I know it's right  
From the moment I wake up 'til deep in the night  
There's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be  
Than holding you tenderly  
  
I've been waiting for a girl like you  
To come into my life  
I've been waiting for a girl like you  
A love that will survive  
I've been waiting for someone new  
To make me feel alive  
Yeah, waiting for a girl like you  
To come into my life"

  
**_Waiting For A Girl Like You, Foreigner_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm at the point where i'm interested in making this not a captive-captor scenario, since that's not healthy in the least - that's coming to an end, i just wanted one last good look at the despicable human being John is shown to be in-game.  
> I'm also ready to explore a bit of the Peggies that work behind the scenes. There's several notes and instances in-game that show that there /are/ good people in the cult who don't like or believe in the violence that has erupted since the start of the conflict - and most of them happen to be in John's region - and it's always been something i've wanted to tackle.  
> Many thanks, as always, for comments and kudos <3 they make my day, week, month, life. Till next time!


	9. Chapter 9

John woke around the same time she did, surprising Bishop. There was normally at least 45 minutes, if not longer, before he roused; by then, she had already brushed her teeth, showered, and was styling her hair before he was blinking his eyes open. That particular morning, she was washing the shampoo from her hair when she felt the draft from the shower door being opened before arms were wrapping around her from behind, pulling her back into a warm chest.

It took some time to finish washing when her hands were otherwise occupied but she wasn’t complaining when she was being carried, completely sopping wet, back to bed and laid out with John on top of her. Two hours later, she was finally braiding her hair into place as John picked out his outfit for the day.

Twining the tired hair tie around the tail of her braid, she started when John came up and sat beside her, dangling his hand in her face. She looked at the bobby pins in his fingers and mirrored the smirk found on his face as she glanced over her shoulder to look at him.

“These are not easy to come by nowadays,” he told her sternly.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she answered happily.

When she reached for them, John pulled his hand away, holding the pins above his head. She blinked in confusion before taking in the mischief in his eyes. Lips quirking in the makings of a smile, she leaned in closer to brush her nose against his.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly before pressing her lips to his in a soft peck.

As she quickly drew back, his other hand cupped the back of her head and brought her back in. She all but swooned as he kissed her passionately, a soft moan escaping her lips as she matched his pace. Just as she was growing dizzy with the intensity of his kiss, he finally let her breach for air; as she panted for breath, he placed the bobby pins in her hand, closing her fingers into a fist as he brushed his nose against hers.

“You’re welcome,” he told her just as sweetly.

If she hadn’t already spent so much time plaiting a fishtail, she might have actually put them to use right away; instead, she merely gazed down at them enclosed in her hand and dwelled on how ridiculous it was for bobby pins to have become a rare commodity in the time since the cult took over. John seemed to catch wind of her sudden turn in mood quickly; she could feel the weight of his stare on the side of her face but kept her focus on her hands instead. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on her knee and squeezed gently.

“If I talk…will you listen to what I have to say? Just…hear me out, all the way through,” he asked.

An unusual request from him – he was someone who tended to speak, regardless if anyone wanted to hear him or not - and Bishop found herself tearing her gaze from her lap and up to his face with interest.

“Sure,” she answered slowly.

For a long pause, he lapsed into silence and she wondered if he’d thought better about what he wanted to say.

“This arrangement…I know it’s not optimal. And that it’s hard on you,” he said finally. “And I’m…I do a lot to make it more uncomfortable.”

His fingers shifted restlessly on her knee, tense and antsy. 

“I can do better,” he acknowledged. “I want to do better…for you.”

Bishop, while surprised by the initial admission, was quickly shaking her head by the end.

“No – I don’t want you to do good just for me,” she told him sternly. “I want you to do good because it’s the right thing to do. Because _you_ want to.”

She looked him in the eye and watched his mind at work, trying to understand her expectations and not fully comprehending. Taking in a steadying breath, she gripped the comforter beneath her fingers tightly before speaking.

“It’s my turn to talk. And you’re gonna listen to me all the way through before you speak again, understand?”

John looked confused but finally gave her a small nod of assurance. Bishop scrutinized him a moment longer before inhaling and exhaling sharply through her nose.

“I’m not going to be jailed here any longer.”

John’s shoulders stiffened in surprise and she placed a hand on his arm to remind him of his promise of silence.

“If I’m staying here, it’s because I choose to. No more of this almost "held captive" bullshit. I’m gonna go where I want and do what I want without someone constantly dogging my steps. Otherwise, I promise it’s gonna get messy.”

She stared pointedly at him as she spotted the gears visibly turning in his head.

“I am willing to remain staying here _if_ those conditions are met. I won’t go sprinting off to Fall’s End first chance I get.”

“…I want it to be that you’re here by choice,” he admitted quickly before she had a chance to admonish him for speaking out of turn.

Bishop’s eyes narrowed and held him in a long, sharp stare before sighing and letting the issue go. Eyes falling to the arm in her grasp, she ran her fingers up and down its length, tracing some of his tattoos as she spoke again.

“If I thought there wasn’t anything redeemable in you, John, I wouldn’t even consider staying. You have a capacity for good, I know you do. I want to help you understand what you’re doing wrong, what you can change…”

John looked up at that, mouth twitching against the formation of a smile.

“You hope to turn me, is that it?” he asked.

He said it with such disbelief that it made her feel foolish for even daring to try and undertake such a task in the first place. Still, she stared unflinchingly into his eyes as she replied.

“And you think you can turn _me_? What’s that saying: an unstoppable force meets an immovable object…”

Sighing heavily, she turned her gaze to the vanity across from them and took in their reflections in the mirror.

“I make no promises, much as you won’t…but I’ll try and hear some of these people out - hear you out. If only to get a clearer understanding of just what the hell started this whole mess…” 

She turned her stare back on him, eyes hardening in an instant.

“But if you start up any of the bullshit you’ve been pulling the last few days, you can be sure I’m gonna cause trouble for you.”

Her hand raised and extended out towards him. John merely stared from it and back to her face in question.

“Do you agree to the terms I’ve laid out before you, Mr. Seed?” she asked seriously.

John finally let the smile he’d been holding at bay stretch across his face.

“We’re a bit beyond handshakes, wouldn’t you say?” he asked with amusement.

“You shook hands over business deals, did you not?” she insisted. “Slip back into lawyer mode for a minute – indulge me.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment before slowly reaching out for her extended hand and taking it in his. Not for the first time, she was astutely aware of how much bigger his hands were than hers; she did her best to steel her face and hide her thoughts while they shook on it. The smirk on John’s face was warning her of his less than pure intentions and she quickly extracted herself from his reach, flush in the face as she placed the bobby pins down on the vanity.

“I am going to find something to eat,” she told him loudly. “You finish getting dressed and don’t tempt me with your sin.”

“ _My_ sin?” he asked with clear amusement.

She turned to give him a steady look.

“Should be Lust carved into your chest and not down at your hips.”

“I know very well you like where that tattoo sits…”

His chosen waistcoat for the day lay across the top of the vanity and she picked it up and tossed it at his face as she headed for the door, shaking her head as she heard him chuckling softly to himself. When she stepped outside, she almost walked face first into the Peggie just around the corner.

It took her only a moment to recognize him: it was the same man from just a few nights before, the one who had talked down to her and challenged her place here at the ranch with John. She eyed him warily and he seemed to straighten up under her gaze; her attention quickly fell to his opened shirt and the bloody bandaging that stretched across the left half of his chest.

“What happened to you?” she demanded before she could contain herself.

“…I approached John for confession after our argument the other day,” he admitted after a pause. “I accepted the burden of my sin and was freed from it.”

Bishop could only stare at him in horror.

“…Why did you tell him? I said I wouldn’t speak a word if…,” she said in confusion, trying desperately to comprehend.

“Telling John cleansed my soul and eased my conscience,” he explained, as if it was an obvious answer. “…and truth be told, I couldn’t be certain I could trust you at your word.”

The man looked at her strangely, a new light in her eye she was unaccustomed to seeing from Peggies.

“I misjudged you. For that, I apologize.”

There was no response she could possibly come up with on the spot for that. Too much information was cycling through her head, all utterly bewildering, and she took her time in forcing something mildly intelligible out.

“Christ, I don’t even know your name…and you went and did that…”

“It’s Daniel,” he offered easily with a smile.

“Daniel…,” she said with a shake of her head. “Alright, Dan the Man - why don’t we just start over then? And not…bring mutilation back into the picture again.”

Daniel smiled in amusement but still nodded his head in agreement. She gave him a lingering stare before letting herself sigh out everything she was feeling.

“Have you eaten yet, Dan? How does breakfast sound?”

* * *

 

There were Peggies milling about in the yard, messing with supplies and poring over charts and maps together as Bishop left Daniel inside and stepped out alone. John has joined the two of them for breakfast and then set out for parts unknown; Bishop tried her hardest not to think about what he did when he left but knew better than to let it slide, filing those thoughts away for when they had alone time again in the future.

She knew she had promised John to give these people all the benefit of the doubt and hear what they had to say…but actually seeing them in the flesh and hearing their murmured tones from afar set her on edge. All it took was for two or three of them to glance up at her as she approached and stare to make her lose her nerve entirely and sweep past them.

 _Tomorrow_ , she tried to assure herself.

Her eyes swept the lawn before settling on three small figures in an argument a ways away from the rest of the ranch’s traffic. Smiling to herself, she made her way towards the children she had met only the day before; little Sue was the first to look up as she approached and her eyes widened instantaneously.

“Deputy!” she exclaimed, turning her brothers’ attention towards her as well.

“Hey, kids,” she greeted as she sank to the earth to join them in their semi-circle. “How’s it going?”

“Boring,” Ryan answered with a pout. “There’s nothing left to do out here.”

“Well, what happened to playing a game?” she asked. “You all were so into hide-and-seek yesterday.”

Andy and Ryan both exchanged a look that didn’t escape her notice.

“Mom and Dad said it might not be such a good idea to play that again so soon,” Ryan offered up evasively.

“The last time we played hide-and-seek before yesterday…,” Andy started to say before trailing off suddenly.

“Was?” she said encouragingly.

Andy averted his eyes, looking uncomfortable; all three of them looked upset and Bishop felt her stomach turn.

“What is it?” she asked gently.

“Last time we played was when something bad happened,” Ryan picked up finally. “There was all this noise one night in the bunker, all this banging and booming…we thought it was the Collapse finally starting…”

All at once, her stomach soured as realization hit her: _the night the Resistance busted her out of lockup._ She could only gaze on in mute horror, realizing these children had only been a floor or two below her during that hellish skirmish, as the eldest boy continued.

“Our uncle Randy came to tell us to hide real well in our room, that he’d come find us when everything was okay…”

He trailed off as well, head hanging pensively. Little Sue wasn’t old enough to know any better and spoke frankly to Bishop.

“Daddy said he was killed by nonbelievers. We never saw him again, never finished the game.”

The deputy was at a lack for words, unsure what could be said to the three of them that wouldn’t be damaging. Their uncle was probably just one of many who stormed the Resistance rescue party and tried to put them down as they fought their way back to the surface with her, Hudson, Mark, and the rest in tow; there was the very real possibility he was one of the few that she herself had gunned down…

“I’m sorry,” she offered up finally. “That must have been scary.”

The mood had soured quickly, everyone in the circle now pensive. Bishop looked from one child to the next and did her best to rally herself.

“Hide-and-seek is tricky out in the open, anyway,” she said as she turned her gaze out at the grassy lawn. “Why not something like Tag instead?”

Two pairs of eyes brightened while the third seemed to wane in dismay.

“I can’t ever catch them!” Sue whined. “They’re too fast and they always tag me first!”

“Hmm…well, have you ever played Freeze Tag?” Bishop asked.

From the blank expressions directed her way, she took that as a resounding “no”.

“Well, in Freeze Tag, whenever you get tagged you stop and stand in place,” she explained. “And if one of the other runners comes and tags you, you’re unfrozen and back in the game. Makes things a bit more interesting.”

All the kids looked excited at the prospect of a new game, much as she thought they would; she smiled to herself as she stood up, dusting off her backside and knees.

“Alright, I’ll go first and teach you how it’s done. Get ready to run.”

* * *

 

The Thorne children picked up on Freeze Tag fast, as Bishop expected they would. It only took them their second game to be running about and screaming in delight, in spite of the Peggies around them who chastised their rowdiness. But even those who shushed them, Bishop found, still looked pleased to see children being allowed to play and run about as they were meant to. A certain lightness had descended upon the ranch as she and the kids weaved their way through the Peggies going about their work, making the atmosphere so much more bearable than it had been her entire time there.

Bishop was slowing her gait to allow Sue a chance to catch up and tag her when John finally parked his truck out front and started marching across the grounds. She was out towards the start of the airstrip when she spotted him making his way towards them, watching their game thoughtfully.

“Hey, hey!” she whispered to the little girl as she raced up to tap her hip and freeze her in place. “Go tag John in!”

Sue stared with wide eyes before glancing over her shoulder at John approaching; she looked back to Bishop with uncertainty.

“Go on!” the deputy encouraged. “He’ll play along, I promise!”

She needed little more encouragement – the girl was racing off just as Ryan came sprinting up to unfreeze Bishop, tagging her outstretched hand and sending her scurrying closer to observe.

John could only blink in surprise at the sight of the child hurtling up towards him and looked shocked when she gave him a solid whack in the thigh.

“Tag!” Sue yelled. “You’re frozen!”

Bishop couldn’t hide her grin at the bewilderment on John’s face, his eyes wide as he stared down at the little girl. He connected his gaze with hers and took in her delight and she watched realization slowly dawn on him. Sue was back and chasing after her brothers, allowing Bishop to trot towards John and tap him lightly on the arm.

“You’re unfrozen, c’mon,” she said as she took him by the hand and pulled him along behind her.

John didn’t protest, though he stumbled a bit to follow at her pace. Sue had already managed to tag Andy and was blazing a trail back towards them.

“Alright, let her tag you,” Bishop coached as she let him go and slowed her gait.

Sue tagged John first and then Bishop, panting for breath as she looked upon them with pride in her eyes.

“You just have Ryan left to get – hurry, he’s going for Andy!” Bishop warned.

The youngest Thorne child was off like a shot, shepherding her eldest brother away from their other sibling and towards the two adults standing frozen in tandem. Ryan managed to reach out and touch John before Sue caught up and tagged him; John, for his part, moved no more than a foot before he was refrozen and the game ended.

“Alright, Sue’s done being ‘It’,” Bishop said aloud.

Throwing a mischievous glance at John, she turned quickly towards the children all gathered round them once more.

“John should be ‘It’ since he showed up last,” she offered up quickly.

She felt rather than saw his head whip around to stare at her; keeping her gaze on the kids, she watched them all chorus an agreement and felt her lips aching to upturn in a smile.

“I’m not sure I know how this game goes,” he told her frankly, drawing her gaze back to him.

“You never played Freeze Tag either?” she asked incredulously.

It actually wasn’t all that surprising that he hadn’t: she couldn’t picture the ultra-affluent Duncans allowing their son to be a normal kid running around with friends…

She forced such a depressing thought aside as she stared at him pointedly and launched into the rules.

“One man’s ‘It’. They run around and try and tag everyone else. You get tagged, you freeze in place. Only another runner can come and unfreeze you with a tag. Round ends when everyone’s frozen.”

The smirk that was working its way onto her face was impossible to keep at bay.

“Are you up for the challenge?”

The narrowing of his eyes was all the answer she needed. She couldn’t keep the taunting smirk off her face as she backpedaled.

“Count to 10,” she said the children all scattered and she soon followed.

* * *

 

It wasn’t a surprise at all that John chose to come sprinting at her first. She kept him at a good distance, not content to play coy and let him get too close. He was fast…but he wasn’t made for long distance; watching him have to slow and catch his breath every so often made her kick up her heels more than a little cheekily as she kept her pace.

“You gotta get everyone to win, John!” she reminded him as she panted lightly. “You’re wasting all your time on me!”

When he actually took her advice and went after the Thorne children instead - _that_ surprised her. She was able to zip in and tag the two boys back into play before John was swooping back in to freeze them…leaving just her and him left in the game.

_Ah. So that was his play…_

“You’re delusional if you think you’re faster than me,” she taunted as they faced off from opposite sides of a picnic table. “Last time you got lucky.”

As if to prove her wrong, he lunged for her and tried pivoting fast enough to follow her mad dash out of reach, swiping at thin air as she stayed out of grasp. She didn’t dare turn back to see where she’d left him until she no longer heard his footsteps behind her; when she glanced over her shoulder, she was surprised to see him nowhere in sight. Standing in place for a moment, she hesitantly went back towards the house, eyes narrowing as she tried to understand his tactic.

The children were all she could see as she returned, no longer frozen in place. She raised a brow, wondering what would have caused them to abandon the rules they’d so dutifully upheld until now, just in time to take in their mischievous glances. It was only a partial surprise when they all ran at her, swiping as if to tag her.

“What is this?” she demanded with a laugh as she avoided their hands.

“Get her!” Ryan cried as his siblings heeded the call and tried cutting her off.

It was certainly more difficult to bob and weave through three very agile and limber children but Bishop managed to evade their grasp and leave them in the dust as she headed back out towards the runway. She saw John out of the corner of her eye, leaping the fence as she got closer.

 _Cheap_ , she thought to herself fondly as she tried to muster a final sprint to keep him at arm’s length.

He didn’t bother with just a tag, much like she thought he wouldn’t; he grabbed her around the waist and forced her to the ground with him, both landing in the grass with a soft thump. John wasted no time in rolling her on her back and straddling her, pinning her wrists down on either side of her head. She could only stare up at him through wide eyes, chest heaving with panted breaths. He leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

“And here we are again…”

Her heart leapt in her chest.

“…you promised me once this would have a different ending than the last time,” she reminded him, voice faint while she still fought to catch her breath.

“Mmm…,” he agreed, releasing a wrist to swipe a thumb across her lips.

She shivered as the pad of his finger outlined the bow of her mouth; gently parting her lips, she let him dip his thumb into her mouth, sucking on it gently. His pupils dilated instantly as she made eye contact, nipping softly at the finger.

In a single second, he’d pulled his hand away and leaned in to seal his mouth against hers, slipping her his tongue. She shuddered and moaned, hands escaping his grasp to run through his hair. His hands were being very explorative, running under the hem of the shirt she was wearing and hiking it up to dangerous heights. Wrapping her legs around him boldly, she missed the opportunity to triumph further when he ground against her hard.

The combined gasp and moan that escaped her lips was louder than she anticipated as she threw her head back and let his wandering mouth nip at her throat with fervor. She let her hands slip towards his chest, intent on pulling his shirt open-

Soft giggles reached her ears.

Bishop’s eyes shot open as she hastily pushed herself away from John, gaze panning to the three children just feet away watching them shamelessly.

“K-kids!” she said lamely, trying to unwrap her legs from around John’s waist. “He, uh, he got me…”

How easily she had forgotten the other parties involved; she was still pulling her shirt down back to decency when John finally pushed himself back up to his feet, holding a hand out to her for her to take. She accepted it, gaze anywhere but him as she dusted herself off.

“Guess I’m ‘It’,” she acknowledged after a moment. “Get going.”

The kids needed no more encouragement, scattering like the wind. John, however, stuck around and she was left to look at him wryly.

“Ten,” she said loudly. “Nine…”

“I’ve always been the one chasing you,” he noted with a grin. “It’ll be nice to have it be the other way around for a change.”

“ _Eight_ ,” she stressed, staring at him with narrowing eyes.

John merely smirked and finally turned to run back towards the house, leaving her alone to count down the last few numbers. When she was finished, she took her time in heading back towards the ranch, taking a minute to calm her racing heart…and rein in her hormones.

* * *

 

The games turned out much the same whenever John and Bishop were ‘It’. One was left for last and the other chased them out of sight; when the children finally thought to come looking for them, they were sprawled out together in the grass somewhere, leaving trails of hickeys up and down each other’s necks.

There was no real time to slip away and do much else; John would have been more than happy to drag her behind a tree for a quickie but her fear of any of the children stumbling upon them left her too on edge to let him. That didn’t stop them from engaging in some serious heavy petting, however, that left her aching for the end of the night when she knew they’d make full use of their alone time together.

As she stood watching Sue chase down a dramatically slow moving John, Bishop couldn’t help but smile to herself at the sight. Such a strange thing, seeing John be so carefree - for as long as she’d known him, he’d been all about posturing and flexing his power on others. To see him now finally shedding his self-importance and cynicism, even for a moment…it was truly an invigorating sight.

The moment was broken by approaching footsteps that drew her gaze from John and the kids. She started upon seeing Thomas Thorne sidle up next to her, his eyes on the scene before him rather than on her. Bishop didn’t know how to react to his presence, feeling herself on edge; aside from their interaction the other night, they hadn’t seen or spoken with each other since.

“Deputy,” he greeted evenly.

“Thomas,” she supplied with hesitation, unsure how else to address him.

“…how are you faring?”

_Good question…_

“Taking a bit of getting used to, being here and not running around all over the county…”

“I can imagine.”

They lapsed into silence but some of the tension had dissipated, leaving it far from stifling. Together, they watched the children all running at John, trying to force him down into the dirt as they clung to his arms and legs. Bishop couldn’t help but smile at the sight and a sidelong glance at Thomas showed his eyes crinkling as he took in the sight of his children at play.

“It’s nice to see them enjoying their time out under the sun,” he told her. “They haven’t had much chance for it recently.”

She stared at him a moment, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Why not let them stay out here, then?” she insisted. “Every day you go back underground – why not remain on the surface? What are you so intent on avoiding?”

Thomas seemed surprised by such a statement; he scrutinized her for a minute, as if gauging her sincerity. When he seemed satisfied she wasn’t messing with him, he finally replied.

“When the Collapse comes, it won’t be safe out here for them – for anyone. The world as we know it will have ceased to exist.”

He gestured towards the clear blue skies stretching out all around them.

“These very skies will turn red with the fire of God’s fury and the blood of the nonbelievers left behind.”

All at once, Bishop felt her blood run cold in her veins. Her vision seemed to distort as she was suddenly submerged in the memory of the scene she had beheld in the Bliss with Joseph. The skies had been as red as Thomas described them to be, the fire still raging around her and the Father as he foretold of humanity’s destruction. There had been nothing but devastation and death all around them, seemingly shepherded in by the ominous mushroom cloud Joseph had been standing before just a minute prior…

“You believe in the Collapse, then?” she heard herself asking, voice distant in her ears.

“Yes,” he answered, muffled in her ears. “Take a look around, Deputy. You have to feel it in the air – something is coming.”

His words echoed Joseph’s sermon when she had first stepped into the church behind Burke and the Sheriff; a chill settled in her spine, leaving her feeling faint. She barely noticed as Thomas spoke for a few seconds longer before bidding farewell and calling to his children, attempting to round them all up. They each ran to her first and begged for her to play with them again in the future. It was all she could do to assure them there would be plenty more days to come just as John approached and Thomas shepherded his kids off in search of their mother. When John was finally back at her side, still in ridiculously high spirits from their jaunts earlier, she could scarcely acknowledge his sudden drop in cheer as he took in the sight of her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he grasped her by the shoulders.

Merely shaking her head, she tried to escape the overwhelming feeling of anxiety and dread that had settled over her to no avail.

“Not now. Later,” she promised.

John nodded and let it go for the moment, steering her back into the house. Dinner was a silent affair and she had to force herself to pick at the food before her, knowing she’d regret it later if she starved herself due to her anxiety. John’s eyes were on her continuously but he surprisingly gave her the distance she wanted, not uttering a single word the entire meal. They walked back to his room in silence and she sat herself on the bed, gazing listlessly at her hands folded in her lap, as he worked on shrugging himself out of his waistcoat.

“What is the Collapse?” she asked finally.

There was a brief pause as John froze in the action of unrolling his sleeves, clearly unprepared for such a question.

“It’s the end of times,” John answered slowly. “The world will be cleansed in fire and only those prepared for it will survive.”

_…that was decidedly vague._

“I saw something with Joseph in the Bliss…he showed me Armageddon,” she explained. “There was a mushroom cloud…is it nuclear war?”

“How the Collapse comes about is not as important as knowing that it _is_ coming,” John insisted.

He gave her a sideways glance as he made his way closer to seat himself beside her.

“But given the state of the world and the threats thrown about by its leaders…would you honestly be surprised that’s the form it chooses to take?”

“Things are bad…but are they really _that_ bad?” she asked. “You all think there’s no coming back from where we are now?”

“You’ve heard at least some of the news in the recent past,” John said. “Seen the headlines…you know who leads this country and how much closer we’ve come to the brink in just the last year alone.”

“But even still – you just automatically assume it’s going to end in war?” she persisted. “Don’t we have the UN and all those treaties for a reason?”

“Have they stopped anything in the past?” John asked her seriously. “Take your pick of conflicts in the last 30 years alone. Put a man with too much power and ego in charge, inevitably he’ll wield them both.”

There was a scathing reply to that about he and his brothers on the tip of her tongue…but this was the first real serious conversation they’d had on equal footing. She could mind herself when it was evident he was doing the same – he hadn’t been condescending in the least and she could show the same courtesy.

“I want to believe in the inherent goodness in humanity,” she said finally. “If I were to agree with your view that there is no hope left for the world, then what point is there in trying to go on?”

“The worthy will survive,” John explained, scooting closer. “The Project is filled with men and women who think like you, who want to thrive on charity and goodwill towards others. It’s why we prepare and fill our bunkers, why we take even those who rebuke us. In the end, they will be safe and they will thank us for our foresight.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” she asked him quickly. “What if none of this plays out like Joseph says it will?”

“God has spoken to him, given him the burden of His prophecy,” John answered easily. “There is no other outcome.”

“But what if there _is_?” Bishop insisted.  “What will you do then?”

John’s expression was full of unwavering resolution.

“This is God’s Will,” John replied. “There is only one path.”

Sighing heavily, Bishop let her head droop with resignation. There was really no way to get around that obstacle, was there?

“Humor me on this, then,” she said. “What about a nonbeliever like myself? How can I be certain the world is gonna end beyond the proclamations of others that this is all ‘God’s Plan’? You expect me to rely on faith I don’t have.”

John’s eyes were sad and she felt her gut twist but she tried to hold his gaze; it was something they both knew to be true and feeling bad about it still wouldn’t change anything. Her relationship with God had about as good a chance of being restored as there was the possibility for pigs to suddenly learn how to fly. The sooner John learned that, the less distress he’d cause himself…

“If you were able to receive signals out from beyond the mountains, you’d hear of the state of the world and how things are crumbling all around us,” he said finally.

Bishop could only blink in surprise at him.

“You’re able to still get signal in and out of the county?” she asked slowly.

“Not from here,” he said with a sigh. “The Valley has all the lowest points in Hope County. Up in the Whitetails, radio traffic is still monitored. They receive all the updates from the outside and it is as grim and foreboding as the Father has foretold.”

He turned to consider her thoughtfully for a moment.

“I might be able to talk to Jacob about getting some of it on tape for you.”

 _I don’t trust Jacob_ , she wanted to reply but kept her mouth shut instead.

Until she heard it with her own ears, she couldn’t believe anything the cult would spin her way. John might have faith in everything he was saying to be true and put trust in his brothers to put forth facts…but she didn’t trust Jacob or Joseph as far as she could throw them. Cycling back through everything he had just told her, she tried to find a good point to push forward with.

“So the Collapse comes,” she continued. “You all go inside your bunkers…what then?”

“Then we wait,” John said simply.

“For how long?”  
“Seven years.”  
“ _Seven years_?!”

The idea of spending that much time locked away underground was enough to make her head spin. There was no way, _no way_ , that even with something like nuclear fallout it would take that long for topside to be inhabitable again…would it? She wouldn’t claim to know the first thing about radiation or fallout – never considered it would be a threat in her lifetime, that’s for sure…

“Why seven years?” she asked after having a moment to straighten her thoughts.

“It’s what Joseph has prophesized ,” John explained. “It is what God has told him.”

“Seven always had meaning in the bible,” Bishop conceded. “The seven seals of the apocalypse…”

Abruptly, her mind submerged her in the memory of that night at the church – of Joseph preaching even as Burke snarled a challenge at him. He had proclaimed her Hell as he reached out to her…

“It was me putting the cuffs on Joseph – the failed arrest. That was the first seal?” she asked quietly.

John was silent for a long time.

“Yes,” he answered finally.

“…why me?”

John couldn’t have an answer for her – logically, she understood that…but her heart governed her mind, as it so often did. And it desired closure, guidance. She turned to him with imploring eyes.

“Was it always supposed to be me? Could no one else have been the one to usher this all on?”

“Joseph was chosen by God to be his mouthpiece – to spread his word and his prophecy to those who would heed it,” John said.

He reached out hesitantly for her hand, merely placing his own over top of it.

“Joseph was chosen…much the same as you were. It was your role to break the first seal and send us down our promised path.”

She wasn’t comforted by that in the least - if anything, it made her feel worse. It had been a long time since she’d read the Bible, but she hadn’t forgotten much over the years…

“The Lamb was supposed to break all seven seals, was it not?” she asked quietly. “What are the other six? What am I supposed to do…?”

Her actions were to usher in the apocalypse…how? What could one nobody from Nowheresville, Montana possibly do to alter the fate of the entire world and every person on it? If there was one thing in life Bishop had hoped for, it was obscurity. She had no need for fame or fortune, didn’t want to be recognized everywhere she went and no desire to make any sort of lasting impact outside of her community. And yet she was now being told that her actions – every step she took from the night of the arrest onwards – had a lasting impact on humanity itself.

_This is heavy fucking shit, man…_

“My mom and dad used to tell me I was gonna do great things…,” she laughed humorlessly. “‘Great’ doesn’t have to mean ‘Good’…I just assumed it did…”

A wave of illness washed over her quite suddenly; it was all she could do to plant her head between her knees and fight for control, shutting her eyes and trying to control her breathing. John placed a hand between her shoulder blades and she focused on the weight of it, breathing in and out heavily.

A sudden thought emerged from the dark recesses of her brain, freezing her with its implications. _Thou shalt not kill…_

“Do you think…do you think this was because I took Louis Draven’s life?” she whispered.

He had been her parent’s murderer, yes…but he had also been unarmed and injured when she’d cornered him. It was murder in the eyes of the law and a sin – one she could never bring herself to feel remorse for. But what if that was the catalyst? If she had stayed her hand – if she hadn’t let her Wrath take control – would anything have turned out differently?

“There’s no sense in dwelling in What-ifs,” John told her gently. “What’s done is done – we can’t change the past, as much as we’d like to.”

“I don’t want to change that part of my past,” she told him savagely. “And what if that’s why I was chosen for this role?”

“The end of the world isn’t such a terrible thing,” John answered easily. “You must feel deep in your heart a desire for it to crumble and die, much as I do.”

Bishop forced herself to sit up a bit to be able to look into John’s face clearly.

“How can you say that?” she asked.

“After everything you’ve had to endure – all the pain, the suffering, the loneliness and heartbreak – you can’t tell me you haven’t wished for retribution,” he said. “This world is the cause of all the evil around us – it made Louis Draven and Ray Tyson and the Duncans and all those like them. If you could wipe the slate clean – remove all the sin and depravity that made such creatures – wouldn’t you?”

She had to think over his words a minute before she had anything to respond with.

“I guess I only ever blamed singular entities,” she admitted. “Draven, the justice system, Ray, foster care…I never thought to connect them all with string…”

Directing her gaze back towards him, she simply looked at him imploringly.

“Are we really so far gone that we can’t emerge triumphant over evil men and women?” she asked him. “There are still so many good people out there, those your Collapse will bring about the demise of…how can you want them to perish alongside the bad as well?”

For a long pause, John merely stared at her. Bishop wished she could decipher what thoughts were flitting through his mind in that moment – he was back to being unreadable, the blank slate he had been during confession in his bunker. After what felt like an eternity, he merely smiled at her and she realized just how tired his eyes truly seemed. Reaching out to grasp a few strands of her bangs, he tucked them behind her ear gently, taking the opportunity to caress her cheek.

“In spite of everything, this world never truly broke you,” he noted simply. “Well, at least that makes one of us…”

Such a statement broke her heart; her lips quivered as she struggled for the right words to say. John spared her any trouble by wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

There were so many things she still wanted to address but found she simply lacked the energy. She was so unspeakably tired…maybe realizing that she was fulfilling the role of the antichrist in Joseph’s vision of Armageddon had been what had sealed the deal.

When she leaned against John’s shoulder, he rested his head against hers and she let her eyes slip shut, willing the foreboding feeling in the pit of her stomach to dissipate…

* * *

Bishop stared at the group of women before her uneasily. She’d been standing off to the side in the shade of the house for some time now – she couldn’t begin to wager how long – just observing them. Looking for Mark had yielded no success (and she prayed that John hadn’t sent him off for good after the other day…) and she had been forced to look elsewhere for stimulation; she’d long since settled on the group of three gathered around a long table set out in the grass, sifting through boxes that lay stacked around them.

 _What the fuck are you beating around the bush for_? Her mind supplied irritably. _Just get it over with already…_

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she shut her eyes and steeled herself before pushing off the wall behind her and slowly approaching. There wasn’t much break in the light chatter between the three women but one she didn’t know did look up and stare pointedly at her; the woman beside her, however, was familiar enough and gave her a small smile as she caught sight of her.

“Deputy,” Meg Thorne greeted evenly. “Care to join us?”

“If you’ll have me,” Bishop replied slowly, still on edge.

Meg waved her over without a pause. Hesitantly, Bishop came closer, trying not to appear so tense to the other two women staring at her curiously.

“Deputy Bishop,” she offered up stoically.

“Elise,” the woman beside Meg answered.

“I’m Jane!” the other one beside her said cheerfully, practically beaming.

_Not your typical Peggie reaction to me…_

“…A pleasure,” Bishop finally said after recovering from her initial bewilderment.

The women went back to pawing through the piles before them on the table and Bishop’s brow furrowed as she observed them work.

“What exactly is it you’re doing?” she asked as she watched Meg collecting nothing except tubes of toothpaste from the mass of items.

“Sorting through the finds of yesterday’s Reaping,” Elise answered. “Everything gets organized by its classification before being crated and sent to the Gate.”

“Classification?” Bishop pressed.

“Clothes, food, toiletries, weapons, first aid,” Jane rattled off easily. “There’s still lots left to go through and process.”

“How come none of this was done prior to Joseph taking over?” Bishop demanded.

“There _were_ prior preparations,” Meg said, gaze stern. “But we have _years_ to be ready for underground. We have to collect and store as much as we can, in case anything else should happen between now and the Collapse – or God forbid, anything after that.”

Bishop felt her stomach tie into knots at the reminder of the Collapse and felt her heart start to pound as she remembered her discussion with John last night.

 _What does it matter? It’s all bullshit!_ Her mind reminded her savagely.

She wanted to believe that – still felt like she did, anyway. But why then did it just leave her with such a terrible sense of foreboding …?

“How’d you three get stuck with this job?” she asked, making her mind shift to less ominous thoughts. “And why just you three?”

“It’s not always this small of a group,” Jane said. “A few days ago, we had Piper and Roger and Mark-“

“Mark?” Bishop cut in, perking up quickly. “Is he new around here?”

“Relatively,” Elise answered, eyeing her thoughtfully. “You know him?”

“Yeah, we’re, uh…we’re friends,” Bishop supplied lamely.

Allies, more like…but from what she’d seen of him so far, she wasn’t sure just where Mark stood anymore. He’d been taken unwillingly and put through Confession and Atonement, so in the Peggies’ eyes, he was one of them. But his unhappiness made Bishop believe he’d return to Fall’s End given the chance – and she’d like to see that happen more than anything.

“He was sent off to help load some of the supplies in at the Gate. He should be back around here tomorrow, if not assigned to sorting again,” Meg told her.

“So, how’d you three wind up with this gig?” Bishop asked again, remembering her initial question. “Why not patrolling or ‘reaping’ or whatever else you all do.”

“Most jobs have rotations,” Elise said, merely shaking her head at the deputy’s slight derision. “I just happened to have my name drawn for this one this week.”

“I volunteered,” Meg told Bishop, jerking her head in the direction of her children fussing with each other by the shade of the trees. “Let’s me be close to the children. And let’s them be out in the sunshine.”

“And, well, I can’t do much else!” Jane offered up cheerfully, running a hand over her belly. “I want to still help and this is where they put me!”

Bishop merely blinked, surprised at herself for overlooking the massive bump Jane sported. It had been more difficult to see when she was on the far end of the table – but as the woman drifted closer to do her work closer to the deputy, it was glaringly apparent that she was close to popping. Couldn’t be more than 2 weeks before she gave birth…

All at once, Bishop was reminded of Anna and Kim Rye and the last time she’d seen them before their drive from the clinic back to Fall’s End. A wave of longing and heartache washed over her and she stared at the table in front of her as she worked to keep her emotions in check.

“What needs to be sorted?” Bishop asked brusquely. “What can I do?”

“Not much left for today,” Elise said, eyeing her for a moment. “Clothing always takes the most time – you can help Jane finish up with that.”

Folding clothes was not a favorite pastime – there had been far too many retail positions Bishop had drifted in and out of in her teen years where she’d been stuck folding clothes and the refolding clothes when some asshole messed up all her hard work in the span of a single second. Still, it was a mechanical, mind-numbing task that she knew she could handle and had her reaching into the box in front of Jane to drag out a stack of sweaters and shirts.

She kept an eye on the background activity around them as the other women remained consumed by their own tasks in front of them. Jane was busy showing her just which crate the clothes would go in when an armed guard approached slowly; Bishop’s eyes narrowed as she took in his condescending eyes and haughty gait. He took more than a moment to give her a onceover and it made her astutely aware of how out of place she appeared: dressed in a silk shirt when the other women were all in wool sweaters and cargo pants…

“If you ladies needed an extra hand, you could have rung up for someone else at the Gate to come out and help,” the man said disparagingly.

“You don’t look like you’re being much use to anyone – why didn’t you offer to help?” Bishop replied sharply.

His nostrils flared and she watched his face flush with anger. Elise made an effort to dip her head and hide her smile; Meg looked Bishop in the eye and gave her a small nod of approval and it became readily apparent that the man before her was not popular with them in the least. Jane kept her head bowed, making no effort to show any sort of reaction. The Peggie stalked closer to glare at Bishop from the other side of the table.

“Watch your mouth, sinner,” he spat. “John’s not around to shield you.”

“You think I need him to fight my battles?” she laughed. “And here I thought you all knew who I was…”

He looked ready to start something and Bishop was all too ready to meet him halfway – but Meg turned around sharply to glare at him.

“Kyle, there was no problem until you showed up – don’t you have a perimeter to establish?” she demanded scathingly.

“Or at least one to pretend to be patrolling?” Elise added softly, smiling over at Bishop.

The man – Kyle – seemed to look at each of them in turn with a glower before realizing he was outnumbered and backing off…but not before giving a hard stare at Jane and a parting remark to the others.

“Mind your own, ladies. Don’t get too filthy hanging around with stray dogs.”

Bishop wasn’t affected by his dig in the slightest – if that was the worst he had, it was laughable – but she saw how Mary and Elise glared at his retreating form.

“Upstanding guy, huh?” she asked sarcastically.

To her surprise, neither Elise nor Meg had anything to say in response: it was Jane who finally piped up.

“That was my husband, Kyle...”

Bishop merely raised a brow at her sudden bashfulness, given how upbeat and sunny she had been only moments prior.

“We’ve been married 5 months now,” Jane finished after a moment.

The deputy’s eyes went directly to the other woman’s stomach and took in its swelling roundness.

“He the father?” Bishop asked.

Jane merely nodded, playing with a strand of her hair nervously.

“We, uh…we broke the rules,” she supplied lamely. “After seeking penance, we married to try and make things right.” 

Bishop’s brow furrowed. Marrying out of lust instead of love never ended well: the number of broken homes she went through or witnessed in her time in foster care had taught her that painful lesson. But was there much of a choice for this girl, she wondered? Was there no one left for her to turn to? Did Peggies face excommunication for breaking the rules? Perhaps that was something else she needed to ask John about, seeing as they were breaking a big one daily…

“How medieval,” she stated disapprovingly. 

“It’s not bad,” Jane assured her. “We’re making it work.”

Bishop merely hummed at that, not believing her for a second. Jane looked shamed and cast her eyes down at her hands; Elise stepped in quickly and took the heat off of her.

“There’s plenty of talk, Deputy…about you and John,” she offered up faux-casually.

Bishop turned a withering stare on her.

“My, whatever do you mean?” she asked in mock shock.

“She means people pay close attention to those starting to toe the rules the Project has in place…and they’re starting to expect marriage for you and John on the horizon, if not a child first,” Meg provided firmly.  

It was such a horrific and stunning thought that for a moment Bishop could only stare. God, she hoped she wasn’t pregnant – that was something she hadn’t even considered…and yet, given all the unprotected sex she and John had been having, she knew that was something she should be more concerned with.

The stress of the entire situation had halted her period back in September and it hadn’t returned since…she could only hope that meant children were not in the immediate future. The Thorne children were good enough for her – she was more than content to indulge and play with them and then turn them back to their actual parents when she’d had her fill.

As for marriage?

_In your dreams…_

“Are there even measures being taken for periods down in these bunkers?” Bishop asked quickly, more than ready to change the subject as she pawed through the box in front of her. “I have yet to see any tampons or pads…”

The other women seemed to collectively blink in shock before looking unnerved.

“It’s been brought up with the reaping teams,” Meg conceded after a moment. “But we’ve been told repeatedly there are other more pressing and important supplies to focus on.”

Bishop didn’t silence the scoff that tore from her throat.

“Men…,” she huffed angrily. “That’s fucking bullshit. It’s a matter of hygiene as well as comfort…what takes more priority?”

“Food, clothes, bedding, weapons, ammo…,” Elise offered up.

“Ah yes…guns are something you need immediately down underground after the world ends,” Bishop said bitingly. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“There will be dangers when we return to the surface,” Meg said diplomatically. “It will pay to be prepared for whatever we have to face.”

“But that’s supposedly 7 years down the road,” Bishop insisted. “When is your next period gonna be? Sometime before then, I imagine…”

None of the other women had an argument in response: in fact, they all looked like they were in agreement with her. That surprised Bishop - not because of the sensibility behind their thoughts, but that they’d approve of anything she said so readily. She was ready to argue and contest everything uttered her way and they weren’t prepared to do the same…

It was easy to forget that these people were all once just regular civilians too who dealt in everyday trivialities instead of apocalyptic prophecies. For as long as she’d been in Hope County, the Peggies who weren’t undercover ( _like fuckin’ Nancy and the other rats in the department_ ) kept to themselves: they weren’t the ones running the restaurants or the gas stations or other necessities. The cult was fairly self-sufficient and didn’t expand past their boundaries unless they were pestering the locals for their land or to convert them.

Bishop hadn’t realized the conversation had died off completely until she realized she’d robotically folded all the clothes in front of her and had nothing more to do.

“What did you all do before joining the cu- _Project_?” she asked, trying to sound conversational as she reached in the box for more items to manage.

“I used to be an assistant teacher at St. Isidore,” Meg offered up easily. “Shame it shuttered when it did…I wouldn’t have minded Ryan and Andy getting to spend more time enrolled.”

“Worked part time at Gardenview,” Elise said before Bishop could seize on Meg’s comment on her children. “And then part time at Golden Valley Gas.”

“I…,” Jane said hesitantly, “I tried doing college online…but that didn’t…didn’t work out real well for me…”

“I didn’t finish high school, _technically_ ,” Bishop replied evenly. “You’re not gonna get any judgment from me.”

Jane looked appeased, giving her a grateful glance out of the corner of her eye.

“I worked a lot of odd jobs, whatever was seasonal – this was the first year I didn’t get asked to help work the harvest at Rae Rae’s.” 

Bishop felt a pang in her chest at the mention of poor Rae Rae; inevitably, her thoughts turned towards Boomer and she felt a longing so strong it made her stomach hurt.

In the time that she’d been at Seed Ranch, she hadn’t seen or heard from a single dog. It seemed strange when there was a doghouse planted on the far side of John’s hangar. She could never forget the sight she’d been subjected to at Kay Nine Kennels, or the number of Resistance members warning her of Boomer’s safety in regards to the cult’s stance on dogs. And yet, there had been more than a handful of Peggies she’d come across traveling with guard dogs…just what was the cult’s deal, then?

As she prepared herself to ask the other women about it, it was all Bishop could do from staring in bewilderment at the sudden change in all their faces. The light of surprise in their eyes, quickly transformed into a mixture of awe and nerves made her realize there could only be four such sights to inspire such a reaction. And only one answer made total sense...

It was no surprise to feel hands on her shoulders turning her away from the other women and being suddenly faced with John. There was no time to do more than give him an initial expression of surprise before she was flush against his chest, his lips sealed to hers. She all but swooned as he tipped her back ever so slightly, unprepared for such a passionate gesture.

It was a staggering display of PDA, she realized belatedly, and felt her face turn hot with embarrassment. By then he was already pulling away and giving her such a fond expression she had to avert her gaze elsewhere; her eyes turned to their small audience and immediately regretted the decision. She didn’t like the way the other women all smiled knowingly at the two of them – what did they know? Nothing, clearly…

 _John and I are in lust, not in love_ , she wanted to snarl but held her tongue.

It was the truth – why did no one want to acknowledge it? Because the cult shamed anyone who acted on biological impulses and attraction – and then apparently approved of unions built on nothing more? It was the most ridiculous, backwards thing she’d heard in a while…and she’d had to listen to Hurk Sr. run his mouth only a month or so back.

God, she could really use a drink…just something else the cult looked down upon.

“What are you ladies talking about?” John asked conversationally as he gave them all winning smiles.

The other three all merely smiled back bashfully, suddenly at a loss for words. Bishop wanted to shake her head at their meekness and silence and turned to face John again with a smile of her own.

“Menstruation,” she declared loudly.

The absolute shock to register on his face was delightful – more so than the abashed gasps of the women behind her. She paid them no heed, looking at John intently.

“I was just bringing up the concerning lack of feminine hygiene products in any of your supplies here,” she continued easily. “What are women supposed to do when they’ll be bleeding monthly down in your bunker?”

John’s shock was quickly giving way to embarrassment and Bishop refused to turn down the heat.

“I…hadn’t realized that was an issue,” he admitted after a pause.

“Seems your raiding parties have been asked about adding these things to their lists and they refuse,” she continued forcefully. “Apparently there are more important things to focus on…”

It took him another moment to finally regain his tongue.

“That’s...I can speak to some of the men about this,” he assured her. “It won’t be ignored again.”

“And what about postpartum pads?” Meg offered up suddenly. “After giving birth the bleeding goes on for days, we don’t have anything for that.”

“Are there even enough diapers?” Elise added. “Not just baby diapers – sometimes women need them after childbirth too.”

If finally giving a voice – however small – to these women was all she managed to accomplish today, so be it. Having to watch John squirm and come up with a response to all of them in turn was a reward all its own, anyway, and Bishop delighted in it…

* * *

 

John could only handle so much of the other women’s suggestions before he was able to find a graceful reason to excuse himself, ushering Bishop along with him. As they walked back towards the house, she couldn’t be bothered to hide her smile.

“Too much heat back there, huh?” she teased.

“They weren’t wrong in the least,” he acknowledged quietly, surprising her with his tone. “And to only just now have any of this brought to my attention…”

Bishop couldn’t stop her head from tilting in surprise, more than a little shocked that he seemed genuinely upset about the situation at hand. It was good that he took the women’s concerns seriously…but she had only meant to rib him a little on it, not tank his entire mood. She thought to remind him he still had time…but the memory of the discussion they had the night before stilled her tongue, leaving her swallowing thickly; a chorus of “Deputy!” from a distance spared her the difficulty of coming up with something else to say. Turning quickly, she spotted Ryan and Andy hurtling around the corner towards her, sliding to a halt just in time.

“You didn’t play with us at all today!” Andy pouted as he grabbed her arm and clung to it.

“I’m sorry,” she told him earnestly. “Maybe tomorrow when there’s time?”

“There’s still time now,” Ryan grumbled.

“I believe your parents are going to be returning you to the bunker for dinner soon,” John spoke up from Bishop’s other side. “Just as the Deputy and I will be having ours here shortly.”

Both boys whined, holding onto Bishop’s arms and pulling on her; she could scarcely keep the grin off her face as she pulled them towards the house with her.

“Why don’t you hang around here until your parents come to get you?” she coaxed. “Tomorrow I’ll try and give you my whole day.”

They seemed appeased, releasing her to go sprint into the main room, weaving through the furniture as they chased each other. John followed her towards the dining table, watching as she leaned back against it casually. The stereo was still playing the CDs she’d left in it earlier and she nodded her head along idly.

“ _Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night_ ,” she sang under her breath. “ _And wouldn’t you love to love her_?”

“Won’t you grace me with a song?” John asked with a smile.

She smirked back, still in the mood to be difficult.

“You think you’ve earned that?”

John’s eyes glimmered as he leaned in closer.

“What would it take?”

Whatever response she was preparing was lost as Bishop heard the boys’ pattering footsteps replaced by the sound of a distant collision. Less than two seconds passed before a resounding crash echoed across the room; she barely took the time to register the surprise and alarm on John’s face before she was on her feet and rushing towards the source of the commotion. Ryan stood beside the shattered remains of one of John’s decorative plates, staring at the jagged fragments at his feet; Andy was by the door, staring with muted horror. The older boy turned wide, shocked eyes on her as she approached and she watched as his astonishment quickly morphed into anguish and fear.

“Are you okay?” she asked quickly, crouching down to his height. “Are you hurt?”

He meekly shook his head from side to side, avoiding making eye contact. She listened to his breathing turn shallow as sobs started building up inside his chest and she caught his face in her hands gently.

“Hey, hey,” she soothed him. “It’s alright.”

“I-I didn’t mean-,” he tried to say, fighting back tears.

“I know you didn’t,” she assured him, rubbing his cheeks consolingly. “It was an accident. It’s alright.”

Ryan’s small frame was still wracked with dry sobs, threatening to overtake him; Bishop ran a hand through his hair, smiling at him reassuringly.

“What matters is you’re okay,” she told him. “It’s just a thing – it can be replaced.”

He was close to hyperventilating and she felt her heart clench.

“Hey – _breathe_. It’s alright.”

She watched as he slowly seemed to accept what she was telling him, some of the fear dissipating from his eyes. He turned to look back down at the broken remains of the plate and she reached for his hand.

“Why don’t you take your brother and go outside?” she suggested. “It’s not safe in here with broken glass – let me clean this up.”

He seemed to be ready to put as much distance between himself and the scene of the crime as possible – until the moment his mother walked through the door, freezing him in place as she took in the sight of the shattered glass across the hardwood floor.

“What happened?” she demanded, eyes looking to her eldest son as he averted his gaze to his feet.

“It was my fault,” Bishop offered up forcefully. “I let the play get too rough.”

Meg turned to hold her in an appraising stare that Bishop met evenly.

“John,” she said, not pulling her gaze from the other woman. “Tell her it’s handled.”

John, who had been surprisingly silent during the unfolding drama, seemed to snap back to reality upon being addressed.

“It’s fine,” he assured Meg. “It’s nothing of importance. We’ll just get this cleaned up and move on.”

She seemed finally assuaged, eyes sweeping over the mess before her once more with a crinkled brow.

“Boys, go outside, I don’t want you stepping in any of this,” she chided, shooing them towards the door.

After her children had scampered outside, she turned back to look at Bishop as she bent down to pick up the largest fragments.

“Deputy, do you need help?” she asked carefully.

“Just need a dustpan but I think John can get me that,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the mess.

The lack of response from John was what it took for her to drag her gaze from the floor and back to him, taking in his glazed expression with concern.

“John?” she asked, finally snapping him back to attention. “Dustpan? Broom?”

She watched him wordlessly head into the hallway leading towards his office and kitchen before furrowing her brow.

_What in the hell is up with him?_

Meg had grabbed one of the trashcans from the corner and was by her side before Bishop realized it, blinking in surprise as she crouched beside her and helped with the larger pieces. They’d tossed them in the trash together and waited a long minute for John to finally reappear with the dustpan and broom in hand; he stood by silently as Bishop accepted them from him and started sweeping the mess up, Meg directing the pan to follow the broom’s path. It was an easy task and once they were done, the Peggie woman gave a warm farewell before leaving in search of her family.

John didn’t speak throughout all of dinner and all the way back up to the bedroom. Bishop didn’t push him, remembering the space he’d given her only the night before, but her unease grew with every passing minute. He merely stood by the side of the bed, working his buttons slowly, as she watched him out of the corner of her eye.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she finally ventured as she unwound her plait.

He didn’t answer. Bishop worried her lip between her teeth, wondering what had gotten into him. Did that plate mean anything to him, is that why he was being so distant and strange? Then why not make a scene of it when it happened? From what she knew of John, he would have no qualms about letting his dissatisfaction be known to the world.

She slipped into her nightshirt and crawled under the covers while John still fiddled distractedly with his belt, seemingly miles away.

“My mother and father…”

She turned back to stare at him in surprise; he wasn’t looking at her, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“I broke one of my mother’s pieces of good china at a dinner party,” he started again. “It was an accident, it just slipped…but it didn’t matter. They waited until the guests had left before they punished me. There was so much yelling and screaming…and then my mother had my father drag me into the kitchen…and that’s when they…”

Bishop felt her heart clench, stomach souring as she realized just where the story was heading even as he trailed off. The Duncans beat him within an inch of his life and destroyed whatever was life of the innocent, young boy he’d been before.

There was such an overwhelming swell of anger and hatred from somewhere deep inside that for a moment, it all but threatened to choke her. His adoptive parents had done so much damage, so much harm…and he’d had no chance to protect himself from them.

She inched closer to sit beside him, reaching out to gently turn his face towards her with her fingertips. As his eyes sought out hers, she cupped his cheeks with both hands.

“They can’t hurt you anymore, John,” she told him fiercely.

The glazed look in his eyes started to slowly dissipate as he stared back, a hand rising to touch one of hers thoughtfully. Bishop only hesitated a moment before slipping her other hand into his hair and pulling him closer; their foreheads touched as she mirrored a gesture she’d only been on the receiving end of before now.

“Given the chance, I’d have killed them for you,” she murmured softly. “I wish I could have protected you…”

There was no other way to express the true sentiment she held in her heart: _if only the years and miles hadn’t separated us, I would have fought the whole world for you. You didn’t deserve the life you were cursed with. No one does._

He remained silent, though marginally less tense. Bishop took that as initiative to gently pull back and tug on his arm.

“C’mon,” she coaxed, guiding him into bed.

Wordlessly he obeyed; she took up the task of undressing him the rest of the way, leaving him in just his boxer briefs as she tossed his clothes aside and slipped the covers over them both. John pressed his face into her chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly, almost to the point of crushing. Bishop returned the gesture, holding him close as she pressed her cheek to the top of his head, nuzzling him softly. They remained that way for several minutes, silent as the grave; John’s despondency was palpable, making her heart clench in her chest as she absorbed his pain into herself. Memories of her own parents – always so loving and giving – swam through her head as she remembered how often she went to her mother for comfort and clung to her as John did now. Without pause, she mirrored the gesture that she so vividly remembered: a hand carding through his hair gently as she started singing softly.

_“Beautiful child….beautiful child…”_

John seemed to cling tighter to her in response and she let her eyes slip shut with a soft exhale, hoping the demons that haunted him could someday be silenced.  
_“You are a beautiful child…and I am a fool once more…”_

* * *

 

 

"What else should I be  
All apologies  
What else should I say  
Everyone is gay  
What else should I write  
I don't have the right  
What else should I be  
All apologies  
  
In the sun  
In the sun I feel as one  
In the sun  
In the sun  
  
Married  
Buried  
  
I wish I was like you  
Easily amused  
Find my nest of salt  
Everything is my fault  
I'll take all the blame  
Aqua seafoam shame  
Sunburn with freezer burn  
Choking on the ashes of her enemy” 

 

_ All Apologies, Nirvana _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Rhiannon" and "Beautiful Child" are both Fleetwood Mac songs with lead vocals by Stevie Nicks.  
> Alright - it's been a while, and I know i said i wouldn't have as long as a break between chapters again. But my health was not great all of November and into December so writing took a backseat for a bit.  
> I am pleased to say, though, that with the announcement of New Dawn I feel invigorated to keep writing! The holidays right around the corner make it tough to crank anything out too fast, but i'm gonna try to!  
> I have the story almost fully outlined now at this point - and while i was wavering about how to end John and Anna's story in the end, New Dawn's trailer kinda locked in one in place so i feel like i can see the finish line from here! it's just at the end of a marathon race, lmao XD  
> My /hope/ is to have the FC5 fics finished by February so that when New Dawn comes out, I can focus on playing that and probably crafting a new main character!  
> Anyway, many thanks to those still reading! I really do appreciate every comment and kudo, that means so much to me <3


	10. Chapter 10

“It’s just him. We can do this.”

“You say that,” Anna whispered from beside him, “But he’s a lot spryer than either of us.”

“It’s _you_ and _me_ ,” John said with a smile. “We’ve got an advantage.”

She merely hummed at that, eyes still ahead at their intended target.

“If you come from the front and hold his attention, I can flank him,” she said after a moment. “Just keep his eyes on you.”

“That’s not a problem,” he answered smugly, “I’m hard to ignore.”

Anna let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a tsk; John sneaked his fingers out to pinch her softly and felt her jolt at the unexpected contact. She tried glaring at him but the smile on her face said otherwise as she started to move away, rubbing her butt gingerly as she did.

“Draw him out.”

John listened to her make her exit before venturing out of his hiding spot, eyes on the figure before him. They were facing the opposite direction, giving him time to creep within firing distance. A twig snapped beneath his boot, however, and the figure whirled around to pin him in a stare.

“I see you!” Ryan called as he rushed towards him.

John was able to backpedal just in time to avoid being charged. He ran as hard as he could to draw him out, eyes catching sight of the blue blur that shot out from the treeline and straight for the picnic table the boy had been guarding. Ryan turned too late to see Anna already snatching the handkerchief off the surface and taking off.

“HEY!” he called, falling off John’s trail in favor of chasing her.

Anna was already too far gone, her gait containing a spring in it as she knew she wouldn’t be caught. Just as quickly, however, her legs slowed beneath her as she caught sight of two other small figures making a mad dash for the picnic table, a handkerchief clutched in the tiniest hand.

“HEY!” she called, turning on a dime and making a run for them, “You two were jailed! Cheaters!”

Andy and Sue merely laughed as they sprinted back for their base. Anna managed to catch Sue and grab her in her arms, the little girl squealing in delight as she was swung off the ground.

“Cheaters!” Anna proclaimed again, quickly putting Sue back on the ground as Andy charged her and forced her to fall on her back.

John trotted over at a leisurely pace, grinning to himself as Anna was besieged by all three children as they dogpiled on top of her and attempted to wrest both “flags” out of her hands. He gave them a few moments before he arrived and reached down to pry her from their grasp, sweeping her up and into his arms. Anna merely gave him a signature half-smile, looking utterly inconvenienced as the kids still tried pulling her back down and out of his hold.

“I can’t carry you all,” John warned as his knees started to buckle.

“Captain, I do believe this ship is sinking,” Anna said just as Ryan took a flying leap onto John’s back, sending them all into a pile in the dirt, laughing together.

It was silly, a grown man indulging in such childish nonsense…but he’d never been allowed to participate in such antics as a kid. The Duncans had barred him from running around outside with any of the children from the other neighborhoods; he was forced to watch as they biked and sprinted by, all yelling and laughing together with reckless abandon while he was made to study and copy scripture. And God forbid he ever got caught looking out the window wistfully at their antics…there was always a beating and lecture to follow for his impudence and heresy…

Now here he was at 32 years old, running around getting his jeans ripped and muddy like he’d wanted to at age 8.

Anna was so natural with children. The way she behaved around Sue, Andy, and Ryan – and how they in turn responded to her – made him realize without a doubt that should she ever have children, they would be loved and cared for better than any other in the county.

It suddenly filled him with such excitement and wonder as he finally allowed himself the opportunity to ponder the potential for starting a family of his own.

It had been a laughable thought back in Atlanta – he had no time and no desire for any kind of relationship, too bitter at the world and busy looking down at everyone around him from his ivory tower. And then Joseph had reentered his life and his priorities had suddenly shifted.

He had no great father figures in his life before Joseph – their birth father and his adoptive father were all he had as examples. And some examples they were: neglect, abuse, and hatred filled both those homes, suffocating the child he once was until they finally snuffed him out.

The time he’d spent with the Thorne children and Anna, engaging in their childish antics and listening to their naïve, worriless chatter, gave him a triumphant revelation: he wasn’t his father. Not either of them. He didn’t need fear or a fist to make children respect or obey him – only love.

_You must love them, John._

“What day is it?” Anna asked suddenly as they lounged in the grass during a break from all their running around.

“Tuesday,” John answered easily.

She made a face at him.

“I meant what date is it?”

“November 4th.”

Anna sat up quickly from her prone position, eyes filled with distress.

“We missed Halloween?” she asked, sounding aghast.

“Dad says it’s the devil’s holiday,” Andy offered up.

“It is not!” Anna insisted, appearing genuinely distressed. “It’s a celebration of the harvest and the dearly departed!”

She dropped back in the grass dramatically, covering her eyes with her arms.

“The only holiday that matters and I missed it,” she bemoaned.

“What about Christmas?” Sue demanded as she moved closer to unsuccessfully try to lift one of the deputy’s arms.

“I don’t celebrate that anymore,” she answered.

“Why not?”

She did lift her arms at that, cracking open an eye to look sadly at the young girl.

“Reminds me too much of my parents being gone,” she said somberly. “I didn’t get many chances to have Christmas as a teen…it’s just better leaving it in the past, I guess.”

John frowned at that, not liking that pang in his chest that arose from such a statement. He understood her reasoning…holidays had been a nightmare in the Duncan home. In the years following his parents’ deaths, he’d ignored Christmas as best he could, indulging in the parties and not much else. But reuniting with Joseph and Jacob – having a true family again – made him realize just how much he despised being alone and miserable during the holiday season. He could only imagine how Anna felt on those cold nights, alone with the memory of happier times…

“What about your birthday?” Ryan asked suddenly.

“I don’t really celebrate that either,” she answered quickly.

“Why not?”  
“Don’t feel like it.”

“When is it?”

“November 27th.”

John glanced up at her quickly.

“That’s only a few weeks away.”

She merely shrugged in response, not seeming fazed in the slightest.

“Deputy, what do you want for your birthday?” Sue asked as she pulled at her arm.

Anna smiled at her as she ruffled her hair.

“I don’t need anything,” she replied easily.

“Humor her,” John insisted; when she looked up at him, he held her stare. “What would you want?”

She blinked slowly, eyes growing somber before she averted her gaze.

“I’d want my dog back,” she finally answered. “But that’s not happening.”

John made a face at her response – but all the children perked up instead.

“You have a dog?” Andy asked quickly.

“His name is Boomer,” she replied, smiling at the children’s rapt attention. “He is a champion bird dog and my very best friend.”

John picked at the grass beneath him while Anna regaled the kids with tales of her beloved canine companion; he knew better than to try and interrupt her and waited as patiently as he could for the conversation to steer elsewhere. He was spared by the timely arrival of Thomas to round up his children for lunch, having them scamper off when Anna shooed them after their father.

He stood watching the family’s retreating forms as she stood and approached him; her arm snaking around his surprised him, drawing his gaze to her in question. She had a small smile on her lips as she stepped backward and tugged him gently to get him to follow. He obeyed, delighting in her the way her fingers slid down the length of his arm to thread between his.

“What about lunch?” he asked her.

“We’ll have a late one,” was all she replied with and that was that.

Anna was leading them down the dirt path that wound from the ranch down to the banks of the river that wound its way south. It’d been a while since he’d walked this path himself – he’d performed plenty of baptisms in these waters and tended to the shipments arriving to the boat launch from time to time…but not in that last year alone. He wasn’t sure what her intentions were in taking him out that way, but he held his tongue – for once – and listened to her as she spoke.

“Looks different when you’re not scaling the cliff side,” she said as she gestured to their right. “I was scrambling up that hill when I came here for Carmina.”

“Why not just take the path and then cut into the trees? That would have made things so much easier.”

“Too much risk of being spotted. Besides, you know I like to make things difficult...”

She’d get no argument from him there; he merely smirked and dipped his head in agreement, earning a soft hipcheck when she noticed. They continued the trek in companionable silence and soon enough they were at the water’s edge, traipsing onto the dock at the boatshed.

“You ever fish out here?” she asked as she surveyed the river appreciatively. “There are some spots along the bank that look prime for it.”

“Do I look like someone who fishes?” he asked seriously as he turned to her.

“Do I?” she shot back, raising a brow.

_Touché._

“That was one of the biggest draws for me to come out here, believe it or not,” she said. “And I haven’t managed to sneak in more than a single afternoon of it…”

He’d like to promise her that she’d have the chance in the future…but he didn’t want to get her hopes up either. Soon enough, they’d be forced to head underground in the face of the Collapse’s arrival and there would be no way for her to indulge in such pleasures. And even then…he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to convince her to return to the bunker.

She’d made it abundantly clear of her feelings towards the idea – when she wasn’t vehemently opposing it aloud, her rigid posture and frantic eyes at the mere mention of it voiced what she wouldn’t or couldn’t. A pang of guilt struck him at the reminder of it; it was never his intention to instill that sort of fear in her. It hadn’t been his intention to have her ever be released from his Gate either…and yet here they were.

He knew it was for the better – nothing like what existed between them now could have ever blossomed while she was stuck underground and he was foolish for thinking for a moment it could have. Things had taken a winding course since then – some events he would have preferred _not_ have happened taking place and throwing further tension between them – but it had worked out in the end. Because this was God’s will and everything would work out okay for them in the end.

John turned towards her and blinked in surprise when he was greeted with the sight of her unbuttoning her shirtdress, belt already discarded on the dock carelessly.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, unable to keep from staring as she shrugged out of his borrowed shirt and stood only in her bra, underwear, and dirty, tired boots.

“Swimming,” she answered easily, bending to untie her laces.

“Swimming?” he echoed in disbelief. “You can’t be serious…”

“Do I not look serious?” she asked as she pulled off her boots and socks, tossing them towards her steadily growing pile of clothes. “C’mon, hurry up.”

“I’m not jumping in that river – do you have any idea how cold it is?” he insisted.

She launched herself into the water with a graceful dive, ignoring his sputtered protests entirely. When she surfaced, he could tell she was bracing herself to the temperature, eyes far too wide for a moment before she shook her head and looked to him expectantly.

“C’mon!”

“You’re out of your mind,” he declared. “Get out of there, you’ll freeze!”

“It’s fine!” she insisted. “C’mon, join me!”

“Absolutely not!”

“It’s not cold, you big baby. Get in here!”

“That water is filthy,” he argued.

She pinned him in a ruthless stare.

“You dunk people in this water all the time, you fucking hypocrite.”

It wasn’t the best argument to make in retrospect, he supposed; still, he looked at her with wariness as she treaded water and raised her brows expectantly at him.

“Come on…”

Feelings of self-preservation were rapidly diminishing as he took in the sight of her puppy dog eyes. With a sharp exhale, he found himself undoing his belt and kicking free of his jeans. Anna watched from the water, easing into a gentle float as he worked on his waistcoat and shirt. By the time he’d chucked his boots aside and was stripped down to only his boxer briefs, she was lazily drifting on her back with soft kicks to keep her motoring.

John considered easing in and thought better of it, realizing he’d be more tempted to heed his common sense and not submerge at all. Instead, he followed Anna’s example and dove in, teeth clenching as his skin connected with the cold water. When he breached, he had to work to rein in his sound of displeasure, feeling all the hairs on his arms and legs standing on end.

“You lied,” he stated miserably as Anna slipped out of her backfloat and swam towards him. “It’s freezing.”

“It is not,” she said, smiling as she drew closer. “You’ll warm up in a minute.”

He didn’t believe her for a second. Still, he trailed after her as she swam further out, trying not to dwell on how miserably cold he was feeling. When he voiced such feelings, such merely laughed lightly.

“I won’t make you stay out here long,” she promised as she started treading water.

His grunt of disapproval only had her smiling as she swam closer and wrapped her arms around his neck. It was about the only gesture that could have improved his mood and he wrapped his arms around her waist as he kicked out beneath him. The look she was giving him now…it sparked all sorts of emotion within him. But curiosity most of all: her gaze was so soft and deep in thought, he didn’t know how to make heads or tails of it.

“What?”

“…I wish I could have met you before all of this,” she finally replied quietly.

Nothing could have prepared him for such a response; his surprised look must have encouraged her to continue.

“You put on airs for the masses…but when it’s just me and you, or me and you and the kids…there’s a whole different side of you that comes out. It’s the John I like best.”

He stared at her in serious contemplation as she idly traced the nape of his neck with her fingertips.

“What would you have done had you met me before?” he finally asked.

She gave him a thoughtful glance before smiling coyly.

“I would have tried to convince you to run away with me.”

John could only blink at her a second before letting his lips quirk upwards in the makings of a smile.

“Run away? Where?”

Tilting her head back, she pretended to think it over.

“Hmm…to a beach. Never seen the ocean before…it’d sounds like a nice place to make a fresh start. We could have gone to California.”

“The California coast is severely overrated. Besides, you’d hate it. Too many people, too much confusion and noise.”

“That so? Then an island somewhere far away from here…I heard talk of this place called the Rook Islands. Had some pirate trouble that seems to be pretty well cleaned up – we could have been undisturbed out there.”

“You’ve never even seen an ocean and you’re so certain you’d want to live in the middle of one?” he asked in amusement.

“It’s supposed to be paradise - why wouldn’t I like it?” she demanded forcefully.

“Maybe you don’t like seawater. Might be too hot. Sunny all the time might get boring. No more snow…”

“Hmm…I would miss snow…”

That seemed to derail her, her brow knitting suddenly with concern; he watched as she lost all the playfulness in her face. She slowly lost focus on him and drifted elsewhere in her own thoughts.

“We usually get snow around this time of year…and yet here we are, swimming in the river,” she said quietly.

He knew what was bothering her – could see the battle waging in her head even now, locked between logic and feeling.

“Something’s coming, just beyond the horizon,” he reminded her. “It’s shifted the winds, turned things over on their heads.”

Anna’s eyes were growing hard as she visibly tried reeling herself back in.

“We’ve had late winters before,” she rationalized. “Just means it’s gonna be a long and hard wait until spring.”

He could only sigh, squashing down whatever exasperation her obstinacy stirred up inside him. She wavered so much between acceptance and doubt of Joseph’s word…what would it take to finally have her accept that the end was nigh? Just as he was preparing to launch into speech, she was unwrapping her arms from around him and swimming away.

“C’mon, it’s cold. Let’s get going.”

John could only whirl on her with disbelief.

“You _insisted_ you weren’t cold! You dragged me in here just to freeze-?!”

She erupted in laughter, the sound almost musical to his ears, and he was swimming after her to grab her by the ankle and pull her back towards him. The shriek of delight she made as he grabbed her around the waist and dunked them both underwater made the entire venture into the river worthwhile.

* * *

 

They’d had a late lunch and showered together before John attended to a briefing with his men on the patrols running through the north end of the valley and Anna vanished to join the others outside. By the time he’d managed to free himself of obligation and go looking for her again, she was back in the midst of typical entourage, sifting through cans of food near Meg and Jane. He could only catch the tail end of their conversation as he approached.

“…how can you be so certain this whole thing is even kicking off?”

“The Father says so.”

“But how do _you_ know?”

“You just have to take some of it on faith,” Jane told her.

Anna scoffed lightly, audible to his ears even from a distance.

“Faith…”

At the very least, she seemed to still be reflecting on the aborted conversation they’d had earlier in the river, which spoke to her vow to be more open-minded with the Project. It pleased John momentarily…up until she leaned over to whisper in soft tones to the man on her left and they laughed under their breath together. He recognized her pal Mark after a moment and felt a thrill of anger and jealousy at the sight of the time of them together. Still…she had made a promise to him that she was upholding…and he had made a promise to her to do better…

Quashing his feelings as best he could, he finally took his chance to approach, letting his footsteps be audible as he drew near. Mark’s eyes widened upon seeing him and he quickly averted his gaze, losing all signs of his previous cheer. Anna glanced at him in concern before turning back to look at John and a look of understanding passed through her eyes. He made an effort to not look to her as he came to stand at the table, nodding in greeting to Meg, Jane, and Elise before speaking.

“How are you settling in, Mark?”

Mark looked surprised at being addressed – as did Anna, trying to be discreet as she glanced between the two of them out of the corner of her eye.

“Alright, sir,” he finally replied, keeping his gaze down.

“What did you do before all this, Mark?” John pressed. “What was your profession?”

The other man seemed to consider his response, eyes shifting as if looking for a trap being laid out beneath him.

“Mechanic. Worked out of the garage in Fall’s End.”

John gave him a quick onceover, surprised by such a statement. He’d prowled through Fall’s End countless times over the last few years and poked his head into that particular business more than once – and yet he had no memory of ever seeing the other man there. They must have stationed him out in the actual garage doing hands on work, instead of behind the counter in the storefront where the burly managers John had always spoken with were seated.

“There’s always a need for knowledgeable hands working under the hood here,” John finally said. “Would you consider taking up a full time position keeping the trucks and patrol cars in working order?”

Mark’s head jolted up, his eyes wide with surprise as he stared at John. He seemed to be surveying him for insincerity; when he could find none, he blinked several times before speaking.

“I’d…yeah, I’d…appreciate that.”

“I’ll talk with our lead mechanic, see about having that set up by tomorrow.”

Mark merely thanked him again, looking and sounding much more at ease as he continued sealing the crates sitting in front of him. Anna had been silent the whole time, pretending to be engrossed in the discussion Jane was trying to hold with her; but John could feel the weight of her stare as she peeked at him on the sly. He instead sparked conversation with Meg, hoping to not be overly obvious in his attempts to placate her.

“Y’know, I truly appreciate what you and the Deputy do for my children,” Meg said after a moment, causing John to look at her in surprise. “They’re terribly fond of the both of you now.”

The small spark of pride and warmth that flared in his chest was unexpected but welcome; John reveled in the notion that Andy, Ryan, and Sue looked to him with affection and awe. He’d seen the way they’d given Anna such looks of admiration…but had failed to see them deliver the same to him. For a moment, he was speechless; he looked towards Anna and saw her giving him a knowing smile.

The feeling was short lived, however, as a truck rumbled up the drive and towards their small gathering. John frowned – both at the unexpected interruption and for the driver daring to mess up his front lawn with tire tracks – and approached without delay. The man behind the wheel was someone he didn’t recognize and realized this was an envoy from either Jacob or Faith.

“Good evening,” John greeted simply, masking his irritation behind a blank face.

“Delivery scheduled for tomorrow morning, rerouted for today,” the man explained as he offered up a clipboard.

John’s brow furrowed as he accepted it and glanced over the invoice. It only took a moment to classify the numerous forms of Bliss being transported and realize it was the shipment set to be received at the boat house.

“Lose your sea legs, captain?” he asked wryly.

The driver looked uncomfortable, averting his gaze.

“It was deemed safer and more prudent to handle it this way,” he explained stiffly.

Ah…so Faith was losing control of the river now too? John couldn’t help but feel pleased at the revelation, knowing that she continued to prove him right…and that sooner or later, Joseph would have to acknowledge it too. Handing back the clipboard, he instructed the man to turn around and unload his cargo before stepping off to recruit volunteers. They came easily – Thomas, Daniel, Jude, Parker and Kyle stepping up almost instantaneously – and soon enough the barrels from the truck bed were being rolled off in the direction of the boat launch, stacked together to be properly handled in the morning.

“What is all that?” Anna’s voice sliced through the din like a knife.

An unsettled hush seemed to fall amongst them as they all turned to gaze at the deputy, holding them all in a knowing stare.

“Bliss,” Elise finally spoke up, glaring at Kyle as he shushed her.

“…hmm,” was all Anna replied with before averting her gaze back to her busy hands, ignoring the rumbling truck as it set back off for the direction of the Henbane.

The others might have been content to let it drop, already trying to strike up quiet conversations with each other…but John latched onto her palpable disquiet.

“Was there more, Deputy?”

She glanced up from her work to stare at him critically for a moment, visibly weighing her options before dropping all pretense and abandoning her sorting.

“I sincerely want to know how you can talk about the ‘Power of Yes’,” Anna said sharply, “And yet you use Bliss in your baptisms and confessions? How is that not coercion?”

“Sinners are unruly and unpredictable – it’s for the safety of the Project members leading them on the path to redemption,” Kyle simpered, sounding haughty. “Making them more agreeable benefits everyone, them most of all.”

“So you have to drug them in order to make them compliant?” she demanded hotly, turning her searing gaze on him. “We’re right back to whether or not that negates their choices when they’re not in their normal state of mind!”

Kyle turned red, equal parts anger and embarrassment; John stepped in before the man had time to come up with a decent reply.

“Bliss helps lift the veil for some. Nonbelievers who might have never otherwise opened their eyes to the truth allow themselves to see what the Project has to offer. It’s to open their minds, their hearts, so that violence is taken out of the equation.”

Anna stared pointedly at him, eyes narrowing.

“You want people to subscribe to your philosophy out of their own free will…but Bliss takes free will out of the equation. I’ve experienced it myself – _many times now_ – and there’s no real sense of self or awareness. _You know that_.”

“Here in the Valley,” John said softly. “We don’t use concentrated Bliss. We want fully functional and capable converts to join our flock – we _don’t_ want Angels. Just a tiny, diluted bit of Bliss to calm the rage and terror that blinds so many…so that they can see clearly and free themselves.”

“Even if you dilute a beer, you can still get drunk,” she replied after a pause. “Drink enough and it’ll still impair you to the degree a few straight ones would. It’s still gonna leave you in a state of mind that’s not your standard.”

John considered that for a moment.

“A fair comparison, I suppose. But there’s a difference between a buzz and full on inebriation – you’re still in control of your mind when you feel a slight edge. It merely helps to loosen your inhibitions, to free you of fears that would normally hold you back.”

“You can still get pulled over driving with just ‘a buzz’,” Anna reminded him. “Even a small amount is enough to impair judgment behind the wheel and pose a danger to others. With even just a small dose of Bliss, how far does the effect go? And is it the same for every person? Is it like alcohol, where it impacts others differently based on weight or sex? You dunk a small woman in the same lake as a tall, burly man, is she really in the same state of mind as him to decide she wants to confess and atone?”

… _That_ was a valid point. One John had never paused to consider until now. As he was still thinking the implications over, Meg finally deigned to voice her own opinion.

“Alcohol is a vile drink – and one we’re all better off for having banned. It makes people stupid and senseless. I think we’ve had enough talk of it.”  

Anna tore her gaze from John to look quickly at the other woman.

“So would you agree then about Bliss?”

Meg stared for a moment, clearly thinking over her response; Kyle finally took that as his cue to leap back into the conversation, having finally come up with something to say.

“We’re the only thing left between the nonbelievers and death! Bliss helps loosen them up and free them of their hesitation. This shouldn’t even be a discussion – it’s saving them.”

Anna pinned him in a withering stare.

“Amazing. You’ve had all that time to think and you _still_ didn’t address the actual question.”

His eyes widened and narrowed, nostrils flaring with anger. His mouth was already curling in a sneer before he was cut off again – the fury on his face was quickly replaced by surprised when it was none other than his wife.

“I agree with the Deputy! It doesn’t uphold our belief that sinners can change for the better if they don’t come to that decision on their own.”

Kyle merely blinked at Jane a moment before his eyes narrowed again.

“Funny how you’ve been content with silence until now. Little Miss Deputy starts stirring the pot and suddenly you’re a conversationalist…”

Jane averted her gaze, suddenly looking unsure of herself. Anna wasted no time in leaning forward, teeth practically bared.

“She’s got something intelligent and thought out to say, which is welcome to the discussion. _Unlike_ some other people’s useless commentary…”

“It’s a hard sell, Deputy,” Thomas spoke up suddenly, drawing everyone’s gaze over to him and breaking the showdown brewing between Anna and Kyle. “But you’ve made a valid point. Even if in the end we are saving people from their own destruction, we come so close to breaking a philosophy we hold so near and dear…it’s a very thin line to tread.”

Anna looked stunned by his support, blinking at him owlishly. The slight tilt of her head in confusion (a ridiculously endearing trait she probably didn’t even realize she had) left John feeling warm and quick to leap in and change the course of the discussion.

“It’s certainly something to think on – but it’s a discussion we’ll save for another time. The night is young and we’re all blessed to be here together, safe and sound, under the protection of the Father and this Project.”

It instantly appeased the others, bringing looks of contentment back to their faces. Anna gave him a look that conveyed otherwise but she merely shrugged and let it be, smoothing her hackles down and going back to the work before her.

Soon enough, the last trucks carrying the supplies for his Gate were loaded and on their way, leaving idle hands behind to pass the time before the remaining Project members also trickled back there for the night. Mark had wandered off for a bit and returned with a guitar in hand, clearly borrowed from one of the others who used music to pass the time during the hazy sunlight hours on the ranch. Anna looked at him with surprise as he sat beside her and started strumming a few chords.

“I had no idea you could play,” she said with a small smile as he experimented with the tuning.

He offered her a small smile back in return.

“Play? Yes. Sing? No,” he told her wryly.

“Not like you can, huh, Anna?” John called from where he watched them both.

She gave him a look but her pleased smile had him smirking back at her. Jane perked up instantly, looking towards Anna with wide eyes.

“You sing, Deputy?” she asked.

“On occasion,” Anna replied simply.

“Oh, please, won’t you sing something for us!” Jane begged.

The Thorne children, who had been rounded up and were waiting nearby with their parents for their ride back to the bunker all came tumbling closer upon hearing the commotion.

“Will you sing ‘Build a Castle’? Will you sing ‘Oh the Bliss’?” they begged, practically bouncing on their feet.

“Oh, I don’t know any of those kinds of songs!” she supplied quickly, trying to look anywhere but at their expectant faces.

“Here,” Elise said as she grabbed a book off one of the picnic tables nearby. “They’re all here.”

Anna hesitantly accepted the proffered item, opening it slowly and skimming the pages with wary eyes. She seemed to be studying the lyrics laid out before her intently before she snapped her gaze back up to the expectant eyes upon her.

“Even if I could, it wouldn’t sound right without-”

The strum of the guitar from beside her silenced her feeble excuse; Mark was looking over her shoulder at the sheet music printed in the book and plucking at the strings of the instrument in his hands. He had the tune down pat, strumming the chords in a decent enough rendition of one of the Project’s more recognizable songs. Anna seemed to stare in resignation at her companion – who merely smiled to himself as he continued to play – before turning her eyes back to the book open in her lap.

“ _In the west shall rise…a sinister creed_.”

She had the melody correct, making John realize with a smile that she knew more than she let on; her gaze was solely on the book in front of her as she absorbed the words, missing out entirely on him observing her silently from his spot in back.

“ _The rich will get what they want…the poor will lose what they need_.”

The Thorne children inched closer towards Mark and Anna, looking between them with wide, starry eyes. There was a sudden shift in the mood among the Project members gathered around – it was palpable in the air. A sense of peace and warmth was rapidly descending that John himself felt and relished in.

“ _The devil knows our fears. He told all his friends_.”

Jane had taken her leave of her husband and boldly strode to take the seat to Anna’s right, looking upon her with such obvious adoration. She clearly missed the shadow that briefly fell across the deputy’s face as she skimmed the next lyrics – it didn’t escape John’s notice, even as she quickly steeled her face and continued without missing a beat.

“ _They’ll block the sun with their lies as darkness descends_ …”

A quick glance around at the others – Thomas and Meg, Elise, Daniel, Parker, Jude – showed them all mirroring each other’s expressions of serenity and happiness. A larger crowd had gathered since Mark had first started plucking the guitar’s strings; for the first time in memory, the ranch was silent and still, making John realize just how beautiful the quiet and calm truly was.

“ _Oh Lord, the Great Collapse…won’t be our end_ …”

Anna finally brought her eyes up from the book in her grasp and swept them over all the faces watching her. She only let her gaze still upon reaching John, looking into his eyes; his heart swelled in his chest in response, too overwhelmed with a sudden rush of emotion to do much else aside from hold her stare.

“ _When the world falls into the flames…we will rise again…we will rise again…_ ”

* * *

 

It was hours after the ranch had fallen silent and most of the Project members had shuttled back to the bunker that John had Anna laid out in bed. They’d eaten a late dinner and had sat in front of the fireplace for some time, listening to one of Anna’s preferred 80s tapes on the couch together before finally heading for the bedroom.

She moaned softly beneath him as he thrust in and out of her at a leisurely pace. He was taking things slow, content to cover her with kisses and soft caresses than with a backboard breaking pace. It had slowly become the standard in the last few days – while they still went rough and fast (which Anna seemed to prefer, and who was he to deny her?) there had been a sense of calm that seemed to settle in the bedroom that hadn’t been there previously. They spent more time in each other’s arms, murmuring softly in the twilight hours until they drifted off – and it hadn’t escaped his notice that he work up with her still in his grasp more often than not, which would have been unheard of not long before…

His fingers trailed up her ribcage and he felt her jolt with a stifled laugh.

“Easy, that tickles!”                                                                                  

He made a point to give her a mischievous glance before doing it again, earning a laugh from her as she whacked at his arm.

“Cut it out!”

That didn’t stop him doing it again. Only when she ran her fingers under his arms – garnering a jolt and a small yelp from him – did he realize the danger he was in.

“Alright! It’s a draw!” he yielded.

Her eyes practically sparkled with mirth as she stroked dangerously close to his armpits again and watched him squirm.

“Don’t dish what you can’t take,” she teased.

All it took was a solid thrust to wipe the devilish look off her face, her expression transforming to ecstasy as she moaned and wrapped her arms back around his neck.

“Oh, _yes_!”

His favorite word…it was still so delectable coming from her lips, especially in moments like this. Giving her what she wanted, he picked up his pace, grunting with satisfaction at the way she keened out his name and dug her nails into his back.

She shuddered as her climax surged through her, legs wrapped tightly around him as he soon followed and came inside her with a groan. They panted together a moment before John propped himself up and gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her still laid out beneath him. Her eyes were shut, face calm and content as she controlled her breathing, a hand thrown over her head and atop her curtain of hair as she relaxed.

Such a sight…he would never grow tired of seeing her so at ease. There had been a time he wasn’t sure she could ever relax her guard around him as she did now; she still had barriers up from time to time, but slowly she’d eased up her defenses and let him see past to the young woman she worked so desperately to hide from others.

He leaned down to press gentle kisses to her eyelids, listening to her soft sighs of satisfaction with a warmth in his chest that threatened to burn right through them both. There had never been such contentment in his life until now – such happiness he hadn’t dared to dream was possible to attain.

“I love you.”

Instantly, her serenity vanished: Anna stiffened beneath him, eyes opening wide at the admission. He could only stare back, sharing in her surprise… he had not intended to say those words out loud. Now that they were out there, however, he felt no need to try and take them back. He meant it: he’d never felt this way before towards anyone else.

He loved her.

Anna merely continued to stare up at him in silence, thoughts unspoken rapidly flickering behind her eyes.

“No, you don’t,” she finally said with assurance.

He hadn’t been prepared for _that_ kind of response; his brow furrowed as he looked down at her pointedly.

“These are my feelings,” he told her sternly. “I know what they mean. Don’t tell me what they are and are not.”

She stared at him in surprise for a moment, mouth slipping open before quickly shutting. After a long pause, she simply nodded her head.

“Alright.”

Those words hung heavily between them; John could only blink as he processed the second bland and succinct response his admission had earned.

“‘Alright’…,” he echoed. “Is that all you have to say?”

The silence that followed was dark and ominous; John felt his stomach start to turn with dread as she remained looking at him with trepidation.

“I won’t ever lie to you about something so important,” she finally spoke up. “…So you have to know I can’t say those words back.”

There it was: he was preparing himself for it but it still stung all the same. His chest felt tight with emotion and he fought down a wave of sadness and bitterness that threatened to choke him. He’d always known he felt far more strongly than she did about their bond…but he’d just hoped…

“I care about you, John,” she admitted quietly. “But I don’t love you.”

If she was trying to make him feel better, she was failing miserably.

“Thank you…for your honesty,” he managed to finally reply curtly.                                 

She shifted uncomfortably as she rolled out from under him and off to his side, growing smaller in a tight ball around herself.

“The way things are now…nothing could ever last between us. You’re still…you haven’t reached your potential yet. I hope I get to see it…but until then, you’re still John the Baptist of Eden’s Gate. And I’m still a member of the Resistance. I…”

Anna lapsed into silence, either thinking better of what she wanted to say or failing to come up with the right words. He had no response for her and let the ominous quiet grow, the tension skyrocketing with it.

At the very least, he supposed, she hadn’t lied to spare his feelings – he was grateful for that. Plenty did: his own men, Faith, Jacob…even Joseph from time to time. It hurt…but he had to bitterly acknowledge it was refreshing to have that kind of honesty finally being directed his way.

If only it hadn’t been for something so painful to stomach…

Part of him wanted to turn away and wallow in misery and shame, to lick his wounds and rebuild his shattered ego. But he knew that Anna was already pulling away – could feel it in the rigidity of her form next to him and how she had inched herself further towards the edge of the bed. He pushed closer to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly; there was nothing but tension in her spine as she was held close to his chest.

Still, she placed her fingers clumsily over his and rubbed his knuckles timidly, as if wary of how he might take any further gesture from her. He shut his eyes tightly as he buried his nose in her hair, trying hard desperately to pretend all was still right between them…and that he hadn’t unintentionally caused any irreparable damage. 

* * *

 

Every cabinet and pantry door was thrown open as Bishop rooted her way through each nook and cranny in the kitchen. There was top-of-the-line kitchenware everywhere (she swore that mixer in the corner was worth more than two of her paychecks…) and ornate china but nothing else out of the ordinary. The fridge yielded fairly boring results – eggs, milk, butter, yawn – and she felt herself pout as she slammed the door shut again.

John might claim to be a stickler to Joseph’s rules…but he had to have some booze lying around. He broke the “no sex” rule daily (sometimes several times in a given day) so there had to be some brandy or cognac or _something_ squirreled away.

 _Maybe hidden too well…,_ she realized as she came up empty and headed for the door back to the hallway. _God I need a drink…_

Ever since the other night, things had been…well, awkward. She hadn’t been prepared to have John confessing his love to her – and even less prepared to have to handle the fallout of her inability to say it back. It wasn’t like she was lying to him: she _didn’t_ love him. Warmth and affection, sure…but at the end of the day, he was still John Seed. He still did terrible things and threatened her friends – all things she couldn’t turn a blind eye towards.

Besides, love….well, love was something she wasn’t equipped to handle. Knowing he felt so deeply about her had changed everything – she found herself avoiding him every chance she got. The echoes back to her doomed relationship with Matthew didn’t escape her notice, leaving her stomach in knots more often than not.

John, for his part, seemed to be pretending that nothing had happened: things seemed to be much the same on his end. If anything, he’d become…more agreeable, shockingly. He seemed to understand she needed some distance, disappearing during the day and giving her alone time with the Thorne children or with Meg, Elise, Jane, and Mark…but he was always by her side come nightfall, never allowing her to recoil or shy away. There was never any pressure to have sex or talk things out; he was just a steady presence, fingers tracing her face or tangling in her hair.

 _Where was this kind of adaptability before?_ She wondered as she pushed the door open back out into the hall.

She hadn’t been looking where she was going – too consumed by her thoughts - and almost walked headfirst into the Peggie on the other side of the door. Leaping back, she steadied her racing heart and narrowed her eyes at Kyle, taking note of the similar expression he bore towards her as he recognized her.

_Yeah, fuck you too, buddy…_

Ignoring him, she stalked her way down the hall and listened to him following closely behind. Before he had a chance to antagonize her, she’d let herself into John’s office and slammed the door behind her pointedly. Slipping the lock in place behind her, she strolled over towards the desk and began rooting around just as she heard the handle jiggled from the other side.

“Open up.”

Ignoring him, she pulled open drawer after drawer of the cabinets that lined the walls. All of them were filled with documents – property deeds, wills, personnel files – nothing too peculiar to be in John Seed’s possession. If she had more time, she would have snooped and seen just how much land John had seized in the name of the cult or what the sorry saps of Eden’s Gate had willed to the cult in the event of their demise; as it was, Kyle had begun banging insistently on the wood.

“Open the door!”

She ignored the other cabinets in favor of the desk, pulling open the drawers in search of anything of note. More boring legal accounts, fancy pens, a bible…she was beginning to think John really had lost all his sense of fun upon joining up with Joseph. That is until she opened the final hutch and spotted the disaster that had exploded in there – in stark comparison to the immaculate state of everything else – and pawed through papers to grasp a glass bottle in her hand.

_Bingo!_

There were two bottles hidden away in the depths: whiskey and scotch.

 _You like your darks, huh, John?_ She mused as she scrutinized the top-shelf brands with a raised brow.

That suited her just fine – she liked darks more too, though she’d never been able to afford the quality he was accustomed to. They probably didn’t even burn going down…seeming downright criminal compared to the gasoline-like concoctions she’d scarfed down over the years. The pounding on the door had quickly become heavy and demanding and Bishop rolled her eyes as she slipped her finds back into hiding, knowing if she was spotted with them, she and John would both have some explaining to do…and she had a feeling John wouldn’t be quick to forgive her for taking him down with her.

She set to work shoving back some of the papers to cover the stash before curiosity got the better of her; just what, she wondered, would John have tossed under there so carelessly? Finding a stack of folders at the bottom of the pile, she flipped them open and started scanning their contents. It took only a moment for her to realize what she was looking at and have her stomach drop.

Files. On the remaining skeleton staff of the sheriff’s department.

Or at least, the files of the non-Peggie members. The first belonged to the sheriff, detailing his lengthy time spent running the show here in Hope County and his squeaky record in the all the years prior to the arrival of the Seeds and their followers. Next was Hudson, looking serious yet determined in her official portrait; Bishop took strength from her familiar gaze and willed herself to continue quickly. Her heart clenched at the sight of Pratt’s picture, holding that familiar cocky smirk she’d taken for granted; it took great strength not to reach out and touch his face, wondering once more what had become of him during all the time he’d been forced to endure up in the mountains.

She didn’t need to read anything out of her peer’s personal histories; they’d told her what they wanted her to know in the time they’d spent working together. If they had chosen not to share anything in those files, then she felt compelled to honor those decisions and closed the cover on both of their dossiers. 

The last folder was deceptively light in comparison to the others and Bishop tricked herself into thinking she’d been overlooked; she blanched upon opening it and seeing a stack of photos of herself within. Most of them were out of focus and taken at a distance - but there were some from the station that were very well defined. Her sitting at her desk, hunched over paperwork…she and Pratt smiling about one of his stupid jokes or pickup lines by the coffee machine…she and Hudson returning from patrol…

Flipping through them rapidly, Bishop could only stare in equal parts shock and horror as she realized the cult had been surveying her longer than she’d given them credit for. In her stupor, she almost missed spotting the handwritten note tucked behind the photographs entirely, only taking notice of it as it shifted out of the folder. Her eyes took in the nauseatingly stylized faux-cursive and felt her lips twitch in a snarl.

_Fucking Nancy…_

Of course she’d be the one to be doing surveillance on the down low…why should she be surprised by that now when the woman had shown her true colors following the botched arrest? Death would be too kind for such a creature – the innermost circle in hell was reserved for traitors, if she recalled correctly…

“OPEN THIS DOOR OR I BUST IT DOWN!”

“Yeah, you do that,” Bishop threw back lazily, eyes never leaving the paper. “Let’s see how John reacts to you damaging his house.”

_New recruit from somewhere east of here. Sheriff’s withholding her personnel file - I think he’s on to there being more than one mole in the department._

_Name’s Anna Bishop. Young, no more than 25; recent graduate of the police academy out of Helena. No other information given._

_Rather cold, standoffish young woman. Polite, but not forthcoming – refuses to share more than necessary. Appears to have no religious or political affiliations. Possible recruit? Need someone more coercive to approach her – John?_

 

Bishop could only scoff at the woman’s notes. All those attempts she’d made to be personable, to try and get the rookie to open up and share any of her history with her, hadn’t been a polite, old lady being kind and welcoming – she’d been digging up dirt for the cult from the start. The signs had all been there…if only she hadn’t been so sure that the grandmother of the station was harmless, that she couldn’t possible have any ulterior motives…

Looking back down at the final note – _Need someone more coercive to approach her – John?_ – made her exhale sharply with amusement. Give credit where credit is due, she supposed: Nancy hadn’t been wrong in regards to anything about her. Did the old woman know where the rookie had ended up? Was she smug with having been right from the start?

 _I see you again before this is all over, you’re dead_ , Bishop promised venomously as she snapped the folder shut.

Mood effectively ruined, she thrust the folders back into bowels of John’s desk and slammed the drawer shut. There was soft scratching on the other side of the doorknob – her ears easily picked up on the clumsy attempt at lockpicking and she stared expectantly at the door.

_Five bucks that asshole doesn’t manage._

She wasn’t prepared for the clicking sounds to come to a halt so abruptly – nor for Kyle to stagger to his feet so suddenly. There were voices being exchanged softly – too soft for her to hear – but Bishop could wager who would merit such a reaction in the first place. The rapping on the door a moment later confirmed her suspicions.

“Anna, dear…”

She was already on her feet and flipping the lock, pulling the door open to be greeted with the sight of John leaning on the frame. Behind him, Kyle stood sullenly off to the side, glaring at her as inconspicuously as he could manage.

“Keeping busy?” John teased lightly.

She smiled back at him forcefully.

“You could say that.”

John stared at her a moment longer before gesturing down the hall towards the main room.

“I have something I want to show you.”

She was already letting herself out of the office, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

As awkward as she still felt around John following his confession, she’d absolutely take up his offer to go off somewhere alone than spend another minute around Jane’s deadbeat husband. She and Kyle exchanged one last glare – giving him an unimpressed onceover that left his eyes simmering with hatred – before she followed after John and left the Peggie behind in the darkened hallway.

John led them through the main room and up the stairs out towards the balcony. Bishop could only keep in step behind him with curiosity, realizing they were headed back towards the bedroom. He opened the outside door for her and she stepped inside, eyes instantly taking in the box at the foot of the bed. She looked towards John expectantly as he shut the door behind him and drew closer; he gestured towards the obvious gift and she approached it slowly.

It was just a white box, no fanfare, so Bishop felt no need to make a production out of opening it. Peering inside, she blinked in surprise at what lay before her. After only a moment’s hesitation, she reached and picked up the fabric puddled inside, pulling out a summery yellow dress to gaze at in wonder. It wasn’t the only one in there – shades of green and red were piled on top of each other within the package, along with a pair of blue jeans and several shirts peeking out from the very bottom - but Bishop let her focus remain on the fabric in her hands.

“You asked for clothes a while back,” John said after a moment. “There’s not too much left in the Valley that hasn’t already been collected…but I’m seeing what can be found.”

She merely folded the dress back on top of the pile and turned to face him with a warm expression.

“Thank you,” she said.

“When there’s more, I’ll have them brought to you. You have surprisingly difficult measurements to find…,” he noted.

Huffing out a breath of laughter, she could only shake her head in agreement. Kim Rye was about the only other one who came close to her height, and there was no way she’d be handing clothes over to some Peggies should they come knocking on her door. Adelaide’s and Mary May’s clothes she’d been forced to make do with, much as she had with all other clothes she’d stolen/borrowed/been loaned since the county had been cut off. The only clothing that _truly_ fit to form was her deputy uniform, folded and stored somewhere at the Spread Eagle since the moment she’d rode into town and was presented with the first wanted poster printed with her in full regalia on it…

“I’ll leave you to it,” he said in parting before heading towards the door leading into the center of the house and letting himself out.

She gave herself a few moments to be sure he wasn’t coming back before turning her gaze to the box before her once more and pilfering through it. There weren’t a whole lot of chances to wear dresses in her teen years into adulthood – they weren’t practical with the life she was forced to live. She was perfectly content with jeans and shirts and jackets…but it still never stopped her from feeling envious of those who got to indulge in harmless frivolity and wear dresses year round.

Pawing through the several now available to her, she paused upon finding a white one down at the bottom. Her lips quirked in the makings of a smile as she wondered if that was done purposefully, as it that one seemed the least likely to catch her eye or suit her style. It was very feminine, sure, but its fabric was soft and comfortable and-

_It has pockets!_

Whipping it out of the box, she took it with her into the closet and set about stripping out of the silk button down she’d selected earlier that day. She abandoned her belt, favoring the waist the dress created on its own, but was forced to keep her boots. Never once had it occurred to her to look or ask for new shoes – the ones she’d taken for herself fresh off of Dutch’s island were dirty and worn and it had long since started to show. Still, they were comfortable and durable and that had been what mattered in the days prior; paired now with such a delicate piece of clothing, however, they almost looked laughable.

It suited her, she realized as she stared at her reflection, toeing the floor. There would always be a part of her that was rough and dirty and tough to look at – especially compared to the more pleasing and palatable ones. She toyed idly with the end of her fishtail and allowed herself to be seized by inspiration, more than happy to find a new distraction.

The bobby pins were still on the vanity where she had left them the other day and she snatched a handful of them as she seated herself on the bed and unwound her plait before starting the process of re-braiding. Initially, her fingers felt stiff with disuse but she slowly felt herself returning to form as she started work on a crown braid. _  
“Off to work on the dairy farm?”_ Pratt had teased her the first time she’d worn such a style to work.

She felt a sharp pang of distress pierce her heart and gave herself a moment before continuing with the braid. Poor Pratt…she still had no idea what had become of him. Everyone else was accounted for: the Sheriff, Hudson, even Burke…

Pratt had been the first one to label her as “Rook” back at the station – everyone else had taken up on it not long after, even the Sheriff. They had an easy back and forth that was comforting in the first few weeks on the job when she wasn’t sure just what to make of anyone else; their banter had been what had helped loosen her up…and probably the major factor in Hudson softening more towards her.

The door reopened and Bishop jolted out of her thoughts to take in the sight of John approaching. He must have taken in the look in her eyes before she had a chance to neutralize her expression – his brow knit in question.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he seated himself beside her on the bed.

She fingered the strands of hair left to be braided and sighed.

“Thinking of days gone by,” she answered simply.

John merely nodded at that, not pressing her further. He watched as she continued her braid, slipping bobby pins every so often to hold the style. When there was no hair left to plait, she pinned everything else in place and patted it gently to test its hold. She only looked towards him when she was satisfied with her work, swallowing thickly before taking the leap.

“Do you know what’s happened to Deputy Pratt?”

He seemed surprised by such a question – only momentarily, however, and she watched with unease as he slipped behind a mask again.

“He’s with Jacob,” he said simply. “I know that much…and he’s still alive.”

To know he wasn’t dead was enough to make her breathe easier, her head falling to her chest in a moment of relief. However…the horror stories whispered all over about what was taking place in the Whitetail Mountains muted the feeling.

“I honestly don’t know much of what goes on up in the Whitetails,” John said, practically reading her thoughts. “Jacob trains the Chosen to serve as the army that will protect the Project both now and in the future. Pratt is probably being tested to see if he’s fit to join their ranks.”

Bishop felt her stomach twist at the thought of joking, easy-going Pratt being shaped into some kind of cold-blooded killer. That wasn’t him at all – it was wrong, it was sick.

“I’ve heard stories,” she started quietly. “About what happens to people up there…”

John remained silent, even as she turned and pinned him in a pointed stare.

“You really don’t know anything about that?” she asked him seriously.

He shifted under her gaze, looking uncomfortable.

“I’ve heard stories too,” he answered. “But I’ve never witnessed anything firsthand. And it’s never been my place to pry and demand answers.”

Bishop stared at him long and hard. She’d never understand sibling bonds, having been an only child herself…and most of her interactions with her foster siblings had been her mothering them, acting as protector and nurturer instead of as a sister. John very clearly loved and idolized his brothers – Joseph, most obviously, but Jacob too. She’d never met Jacob so she couldn’t begin to guess what he was exactly like…but she’d heard his outpost broadcasts and had him deliver a threat only vaguely at her over the radio. There was already no love for him in her heart…and having John unwilling to speak of him in anything less than a positive manner only set her further on edge.

“You didn’t think it was your place or you didn’t want to know?” she demanded brusquely.

John gave her a tired look out of the corner of his eye.

“Sometimes, it’s better off leaving well enough alone,” he answered.

That sounded like Joseph speaking, not John – she felt her mood deflate as she sighed and rested her elbows on her knees. Neither of them spoke or moved for a while, letting the silence between them become heavy and oppressive; just as she was starting to feel the need to speak or squirm, John’s fingers were lightly touching her braid.

“I like it like this,” he said simply.

She rolled her shoulders in not quite a shrug, mind still too immersed in dark thoughts to humor him. His fingers trailed down to drag his knuckles gently across her cheek before slipping down her shoulder towards her hand.

“I want to take you somewhere,” he said. “Will you come along?”

Immediately, she tensed, mind racing straight to the bunker and possibly being taken back into its depths. When she pinned him in an alarmed stare, he was quick to placate her.

“Not far from here, still above ground.”

She took several deep breaths, studying his face for any duplicity. When she was satisfied to find none, she shut her eyes and gave a small nod.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Bishop would be lying if she said she hadn’t gotten excited when he marched them towards the beautiful red Kimberlite parked at the front of the house. She’d wondered if it was his, having never seen it move since the time she’d come to take up residency here; it reminded her very much of the Kimberlite she’d acquired out in an abandoned garage in the Henbane. Her ride was clearly well used and weathered, paint chipping off in places…John’s was shiny and pristine, clearly only hitting the dusty roads every once in a blue moon.

She sat in the passenger seat, enjoying the breeze coming through the rolled down window as they glided down the dirt road away from the ranch. John was being very coy about where their final destination led and while he’d assuaged her fears of it being a bunker, she still couldn’t help but feel antsy about the secrecy. The car wound down the dirt path towards the main road…but veered off onto another dusty trail off to the right; Bishop blinked in surprise before looking forward with interest, wondering what lay beyond.

She was surprised by the sight of several greenhouses in the distance, made apparent by the glass roofs visible from afar. The car rolled up easily through the dirt and came to a gentle stop a ways from the glasshouses; Anna looked over at John as he opened his door and stepped out.

“What are we doing out here?” she asked as she mirrored the action, standing and watching as he rooted around in the backseat.

Nothing could have prepared her to see the 6-pack of Whistling Beaver he pulled out before slamming the driver door shut behind him. He took note of her incredulous expression and turned away with a smirk, walking a little bit too tall towards the greenhouses nearby. Shaking her head, Bishop could only follow, wondering what possibly went through his mind at times. As they strolled past the glass shacks, she couldn’t help but look at their contents, a frown tugging immediately at the corners of her mouth as she recognized the white flowers sprouting within.

_Bliss…_

John was sweeping past the greenhouses and Bishop forced herself to keep in time with him, shelving the swell of unease the flowers instilled in her. She blinked quickly when John led them towards the windpump behind the structures, growing more confused by the minute as he headed straight for the ladder leading up the nearby silo.

He climbed first, taking his time with the six pack in hand; Anna stood beneath, ready to catch him – or the beer – should he falter but he made it to the top without issue. She followed suit without prompting, making faster progress with unburdened hands and was up on the roof just as he was seating himself.

Her eyes took in the sight before them: the shimmering fields, the sweeping mountains…the gigantic YES glaring down at them from the hills.

“Not a bad view,” he said with satisfaction.

“…Guess it’s all a matter of taste,” she said after a second, smiling behind her hand at how quickly he turned to narrow his eyes at her.

“Keep that attitude up and I won’t share,” he taunted as he pulled forth the six pack.

“Isn’t booze banned by the Project?” she asked cheekily.

John merely gave her a level stare.

“Along with premarital sex,” he answered as he grabbed himself a bottle and cracked it open.

“All the best things, then.”

“So it would seem.”

 She had no intention of selling him out on it – especially not when he was handing her an open bottle and she got her first taste. It was bit hoppier than she normally liked, but beggars could not be choosers; besides, she’d had far worse in her lifetime. She drank in silence, merely content with the slight burn it gave her throat on its way down as she stared out across the valley at the sprawling mountains laid out before them.

“How’d you even know about this spot?” she asked as she turned and gave him a look.

He looked discomforted and she tilted her head in confusion.

“Nick Rye,” he finally answered, catching her off guard. “A long time ago when I first met him.”

“Nick came out here?” she asked in disbelief.

“More than once,” John answered, tagging a swig from his beer. “Back before the Project had expanded as much as it has…it might surprise you to know I tried to befriend him first.”

It made sense: the seemed to be the only two in Holland Valley who owned and operated planes, let alone had a passion for them. She could see both John and Nick being intrigued by the prospect of someone else sharing in their enthusiasm – hell, they’d both been pleased when she’d indulged them and she knew next to nothing about flight and aircrafts.

“You really did try reaching out to him before all this?” she asked quietly. “I saw the note you left at their house…I just thought…”

“He was one of the first people I approached on my own when we moved out here,” John told her just as quietly. “He and Kim weren’t even married yet. I brought him to the ranch when it was complete and we talked shop for hours. We had a number of days like that…I thought I was getting through to him. And then, he turned on me. Shut me out completely.”

She understood why Nick would – hell, in his position, she would have most likely done the same once the cult got brought up – but to see John so despondent over it was more than a little heartbreaking.

“Sometimes you push too hard, you end up pushing others away,” she noted. “You try too hard…hmph, and I don’t try at all…opposite ends of the spectrum there.”

“And yet everyone flocks to you,” he said as he fixed her in a stare. “They’re pulled to you regardless of how you act.”

“No one really has the option to be picky about their friends at this point in time,” she pointed out as she took a sip from her beer. “They’re stuck with me since I was the only one stepping in for a while there.”

“It’s more than just that,” he argued, adding quietly after a moment, “I hear he and Kim named you godmother of their daughter?”

“…named her after me too,” she conceded finally.

“Anna Rye…,” John said staring off into the distance. “How would they differentiate between the two of you?”

“They call me Deputy or Bishop. Only you call me Anna anymore,” she said with a wistful smile. “Well, you and the folks back home in Jackson County…but seeing as I probably won’t ever see them again, it’s just you now.”

Forcing down the sudden wave of sadness such a thought conjured – _she didn’t like to dwell on never seeing Shaw even one last time_ – she pushed on with her original train of thought.

“My dad used to call me Annie. The only person who ever did that. My mom _hated_ it. ‘We named her ANNA, David!’ But that never stopped him.”

She felt some warmth return to her chest as she stared out at the mountains before them and recalled simpler times.

“It’s how he always greeted me when he walked in the door: ‘Hey Annie, girl! How’ve ya been?’”

Her legs swung listlessly over the edge of the roof, eyes watching the movement but still not quite seeing.

“Used to sing me ‘Annie’s Song’ before bed…”

She stared at nothing for a long time, very clearly lost in her thoughts. Abruptly, she ripped herself out of her reverie to look at John with an almost pained expression.

“I’ve let you call me Anna…please don’t ever call me Annie. That was just between me and my dad…I don’t want that ever taken away.”

John just held her stare, taking in her candor with an unusually soft expression.

“I promise,” he finally told her gently.

She merely nodded her head sharply, at a loss for anything else to say in response. Eyes darting around for anything else to distract her, they settled upon the rest of the six-pack sitting there tantalizingly and she extended a hand to snag another bottle by its neck. John surprised her by intercepting, grabbing the beers and pushing them out of reach.

“Not just yet,” he told her. “We’re saving those.”

Confusion knitting her brow, she merely stared at him a moment before accepting his word with a shrug. Her eyes drifted down to the empty bottle between her ankles and she reached for that instead. Turning sharply, she raised it over her head and took aim at the windpump behind them; with John watching her, she let it sail straight into the blade’s center hub, shattering upon impact and raining down into the grass below.

“We used to do dumb shit like that outside of Billings,” she told him as she turned back towards him. “Not a whole lot to do for fun out in the middle of nowhere.”

To her surprise she watched John reach for his bottle and weigh it in his hand before turning and taking aim where she’d just disposed of hers. His flew too wide and smacked one of the blades instead, the whole structure whining in protest as it was thrown off rhythm; he cursed softly as the bottle went spiraling into the grass below and out of sight. Bishop couldn’t help but laugh, her smile widening as he shoved her playfully in retaliation.

They spent a few more minutes watching the sun’s lazy descent towards the mountain peaks before John stood and extended a hand to help her back onto her feet. He let her descend first and she waited for him at the bottom as he navigated his way down with the rest of the six pack. There was still no clear answer as to what he intended to use them for…until he led them straight in front of the greenhouses and came to a halt, plopping the carton down at his feet and reaching for a bottle.

Her eyes narrowed as he easily unscrewed the cap off of it, realizing it had been opened previously. As he lifted it, her nose scented the air and caught the same whiff of gasoline she had picked up by the car. Her mind put two and two together slowly, watching as John reached for the wick – not rope – in his back pocket and plugged it into the opening.

_What the hell is the Molotov for…?_

John’s eyes only locked with hers after he’d extracted a lighter from out of his shirt’s breast pocket and sparked a flame. He extended the lit bottle out for her to take.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Bishop eyes followed the direction he tilted his head and locked onto the greenhouses laid out before her, the Bliss flowers looking terribly innocent in their enclosures. Whipping her gaze back to John, she could only stare at his face for a very long time before looking back towards the Molotov still held out for her to take. She accepted it slowly, still struggling to believe this was happening.

“You’re being serious?” she asked, staring at him again and not the volatile concoction in her hand.

“I’ve decided Bliss comes dangerously close to going against everything I’ve come to believe,” he told her simply. “There are other forms of coercion and persuasion available, ones I’m quite proficient with…I’ll take my pick of them.”

It was such a roundabout way of admitting her words had moved him; she almost rolled her eyes at the lengths he went to in order to not acknowledge her part in changing his mind. Regardless, she felt a smile tugging at her lips as he made a show of looking unfazed in the slightest.

“Besides, you’ve already proven you have better aim with these things than I do,” he offered offhandedly as he reached for another beer and set about stuffing a wick in it.

Weighing the bottle in her hand a moment, she turned her gaze back towards the greenhouse in front of her; with a strong overhand swing, she sent it sailing straight through the doors and into the midst of the plants, hearing the telltale crack of the glass before the flames leapt up to spread with the beer and gas splashing outwards. John already had another prepped and handed to her and she cast it into the greenhouse to the left, letting it explode across the flowers centermost under cover. John held one in his hands that he was busy contemplating and Bishop watched him with interest.

“Relax your grip,” she told him gently. “You’re too rigid on your release; it should be a fluid motion.”

She watched him evaluate and readjust his fingers around the bottle twice before lining himself up for the throw. It went better than before, cracking in the far back corner of the last greenhouse; however, the flames didn’t spread as evenly as the other two and he was forced to use the last beer to make another, which he handed off to her to throw and looked on as she immolated the rest.

Bishop stepped closer and wrapped her arm around his, hand sliding down towards his wrist. John’s fingers threaded with hers and held tight as they both stood and watched the inferno blazing before them. The sprinklers outside the greenhouses kicked in and contained the towering heat of the flames, misting the air with a pleasant coolness that drifted towards their faces on the breeze.

 _Sharky, if only you could see this_ , Bishop thought wistfully, shelving the sudden pang of longing in favor of resting her head against John’s shoulder.

* * *

 

It wasn’t a terrible shock that after the short drive back, John led them straight for his hangar. The sight of Affirmation – shining a brilliant charcoal in the light- still set her on edge…but she’d be lying if she said the thought of flying again after so long didn’t excite her. She’d never been in anything aside from Carmina and Tulip and had no idea what to expect from the sleek beast that sat out before her.

John led her to the back of the plane, reaching for her waist as he helped lift her up onto the wing and towards the gunner seat. She slipped in without prompting, admiring all the controls and the mounted gun that was turned away from her.

“You really trust me back here manning the cannon?” she teased over the headset in front of her.

“I can fly you over Resistance territory and you can test it out,” he answered quickly, making her shake her head as she smoothed her dress down over her legs.

The roar of the engine coming to life made her jolt, but there was no accompanying sputter like there would have been in Carmina; her stomach was seized by nerves, unease and excitement both surging through her as they often did before taking flight. Affirmation had such a smooth gait – she barely felt any bumps or drag as they taxied out onto the runway.

_Ironic to be back on this runway taking off again after so much time…_

She voiced that thought aloud to John and heard him chuckle through the headset.

“I assure you this time will be a lot less stressful,” he replied.

It seemed true enough as they picked up speed and lifted with a smooth glide. Bishop felt bad for being hard on Carmina…but in the very brief time she’d spent in Affirmation, she already knew which bird she preferred. They were gliding effortlessly through the air, the giant YES sign looming in front for several moments before John dipped the right wing and they were in a graceful turn and heading east.

“It sure is something being in a plane that doesn’t feel like it’s gonna rip apart if you take one turn wrong,” she said aloud.

“Old Carmina not holding up so well, is she?” John replied, not sounding surprised. “I talked to Nick about that left wing…seems like a lifetime ago now…”

She remembered Nick referencing that wing while she’d stolen the plane back for him – _that_ felt like a lifetime ago for her. Trying not to let her thoughts drift back to the Rye family, she kept her gaze on the land far below them and tried to distinguish landmarks. To the far southwest was Fall’s End…even from a fair distance and high altitude, the town was distinguishable solely based on the clustering of buildings was found nowhere else in the valley. Which meant northeast of that – right where they were passing above - was the reservoir…and somewhere just east of that was Red’s Farm Supply…

Barely suppressing a snort at the thought of that place, she kept her eyes to her right, peering at the tops of homes she couldn’t map out in her head at their speed. Affirmation was easing north anyway, turning her attention ahead to gaze at the Henbane River shimmering from a distance as they approached where it fed into Silver Lake. The sparkling rivers and lakes, the rolling mountains with mist spiraling near their tops…it was truly a breathtaking sight.

“If I were you, I’d fly off in this plane and never touch the ground again,” she spoke up again, almost reluctant to break the peaceful silence that had settled between them for some time now.

“…there were times I considered it,” he answered, surprising her with such an admission.

“Do you still feel that way?” she asked gently.

“No. I’ve found purpose and people I love. I’m no longer lost.”

Her chest tightened at those words, instantly recalling that moment from several nights before. Tongue suddenly thick, she struggled to swallow and forced her gaze out over the stretch of Dutch’s island she could see from afar. She was spared trying to swap topics by the crackle of the radio up on John’s console. Adjusting her headset, she listened in past the pilot jargon they started off with.

“Clear skies Brother John?”

“For the time being,” he answered simply.

“The Father has requested your presence at the compound tonight.”

“…Copy that.”

_So much for a quiet dinner or a night relaxing in bed…_

“The Deputy is also to be expected.”

Bishop jolted up at that addition, looking at the back of John’s headrest with alarm.

“Negative. I’ll return in two hours time to meet with Joseph myself.”

“The Deputy-“

“-will not be joining.”

“The Father insists on her presence and made sure to stress the importance of that part of the message.”

She could feel rather than see the tension escalating from him in the cockpit. Her mouth worked furiously as she fought with herself a full minute before speaking.

“It’s fine.”

“Anna-”

“Really, John. It’s alright. Let’s go,” she said stiffly.

There were a thousand different things she’d rather do than be put back before Joseph Seed again – still too unnerved by her last run-in with him and the things he had shown her – but there really weren’t any other options available here. If they went together, John stayed out of trouble and that boded well for her too. Besides…maybe playing nice could score some insight into the cult? Vital intel straight from their HQ – what could benefit the resistance more?

 _Playing nice_ …who was she kidding? Even now, she felt her mouth setting in a stony frown, preparing herself for the worst. The chances of things going well tonight were…well, they weren’t betting odds, that was for damn sure…

Affirmation slowly began its descent, a dropping sensation filling her stomach and refusing to abate, leaving her feeling close to nauseous.

“This is not how I wanted this evening to end…”

At the very least, John _did_ sound genuinely apologetic. Still, it was hard to shake the heightened sense of panic that was mounting inside her as they glided over a familiar church…one she had only seen once before, on a warm night so very long ago when the helicopter crashed…

 _You agreed to this_ , her brain reminded her unhelpfully.

As true as that was, it didn’t help came her racing heart as a hundred different scenarios for what lay ahead cycled through her brain. She shut her eyes tightly and braced herself as Affirmation touched down on the cult compound’s island, trying to remain as poised as she could in the face of Joseph Seed once more.

* * *

 

 

"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.  
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.  
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.  
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.  
  
No, I don't want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)  
No, I don't want to fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)  
With you, with you (this girl is only gonna break your heart)  
  
What a wicked game you play to make me feel this way.  
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.  
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.  
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you  
  
And I wanna fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)  
No, I wanna fall in love (this girl is only gonna break your heart)  
With you."

 

_ Wicked Game, Chris Isaak _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the delay - /again/. My health issues are from a stomach ulcer, i've learned. 0/10 experience, would not recommend DX  
> Anyway, i'm on medication now to treat it and i'm hoping to be cranking out more frequently in the near future. Maybe finishing up John and Anna's story isn't gonna happen before New Dawn drops, but i'll try and get it as close as I can!  
> Poor John crashes and burns...but hey, that's why the tag "slow burn" is there, lol. He's still got some shaping up to do first  
> Next chapter obviously has Joseph, but Jacob looms in the future and I CAN'T WAIT to finally be able to write for him. He's the last Seed i haven't touched (or mangled, depending on your view, lol) and I'm ready to round out the set.  
> Again, thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments before - they really did help me keep churning out sentences little by little when i was at my sickest! <3


	11. Chapter 11

Once upon a time, the thought of bringing the Junior Deputy with him to the Project’s compound had exhilarated him. It would have been a moment of triumph and pride as he escorted her to the Father and she was formally brought into the fold.

Now…well, things had obviously not panned out the way he’d envisioned all the way at the start of autumn. They were both here now but John was filled nerves at everything that could pan out in just a few short hours…

He doubled back to help Anna out of the gunner seat,  wearing an apologetic expression and hoping she understood how much he didn’t enjoy this turn of events either. She accepted his aid in leaping down off the wing but stood rigid in his arms back on the ground. Her face was blank but her eyes were hard and he felt a surge of regret coursing through him. To his surprise, she reached out and gently grasped his hand in hers; his eyes whipped from her fingers threading between his and back up to her face in time to catch the brief softening of her eyes.

_It’s fine._

Heart swelling, he merely gave her a small smile before tugging her along with him in the direction of the compound. It was a beautiful trail that wound from the strip of vacant earth where he landed Affirmation whenever he journeyed here by air – any other occasion and he might have taken his time in making the journey to the compound, letting Anna take in the sight of the lake and the trees against the warm buttery glow of the fading afternoon light. But she was so tense beside him – her grip on his hand becoming tighter as they walked – and he felt her nerves bleeding from her over into himself.

Joseph usually gave more warning than this. He’d checked in with John multiple times since the night he’d rescued Anna from the Henbane and had inquired about her wellbeing each time. The proposal to finally bring her back to the compound for a face-to-face had only been mentioned three times and John had adamantly refused each time. He wasn’t lying each time he said that she wasn’t ready for such a situation; she was still feeling out all the Project members stationed at the ranch and taking in as much as she could from their rhetoric.

But the reality remained unchanged that she was persistently loyal to the Resistance and constantly challenging others who didn’t share her views on the state of the county at war with itself. Granted, she had brought up some valid concerns…but John couldn’t dwell more on that now. Her mind wouldn’t change overnight – and the reality of her facing Joseph again after so long was setting in, leaving him starting to feel antsy.

Anna’s hand tightened around his and he looked down at her, taking in her ramrod posture as she kept her gaze straight ahead.

“Been a long time since I’ve been here,” she told him simply. “…But I dream about this place enough.”

She’d told him before of the recurring nightmares she had of the night of the failed arrest…he could only imagine how she was feeling now as they approached the compound on foot and stepped through the side gate together. Joseph had dispersed just about everyone that night when he returned to the church; John had flown back to his ranch after his bombing run on Burke and Anna and was greeted with more hands on deck, all awaiting orders for the commencement of the Reaping. There were still very few who remained on the island here - the church was unusually silent from afar and John glanced back at Anna to see her staring at it intensely.

Knowing Joseph would more than likely not be there, he lead them away from it. Instead, they approached the gates that separated the living quarters from the church’s front yard; as they drew closer, John’s eyes locked onto the figure standing out front of one of the buildings and felt his gait falter. Anna glanced at him with curiosity before following his gaze and stiffening beside him.

It wasn’t Joseph that awaited their arrival, but a familiar woman clad in pristine white, still barefoot despite the cold earth between her toes. She looked to them and offered up a dazzling smile as she approached.

“Deputy!” she greeted cheerfully, skimming past John to seize Anna’s hands in her own.

John felt his own irritation grow at the sight of Anna’s eyes narrowing ever so slightly at Faith’s touch. Still, she forced a tight-lipped smile onto her face to mirror Faith’s dazzling one as she leaned in close.

“Or should I call you ‘Sister?’” she whispered. “I’m so excited for you to join our family. I told you before that you belonged with us.”

“I remember,” Anna replied simply.

Faith reached out to run her fingers gently through Anna’s hair, tracing the shape of the braid that haloed her head.

“A shame our time together was ended so abruptly…,” she simpered, casting John a sideways glance. “I thought we were close to coming to an understanding…”

“Things were getting a little too intense – I needed to clear my head and called John to take me back to the valley,” Anna replied, eyes crinkling but gaze still hard.

Faith’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly in response, though she remained smiling serenely.

“Such a lovely dress,” she said as she glanced at Anna’s attire. “That color suits you.”

John could see the clench of Anna’s jaw as she tried reining herself in and he intervened.

“We were summoned on such short notice, Faith,” he reminded her, watching her gaze flit back to him. “I promise you there would have been no attempts to color coordinate otherwise.”

She kept her smile but John could see the ice slipping into her gaze.

“Would you have rather you both matched in blue, then?” she asked sweetly. “You know, blue in flowers stands for love and desire…but also unreachable goals. A man striving endlessly to obtain the impossible…”

There were plenty of things she could be alluding to – none of which pleased John. He was swiftly spared responding to her (with a biting reply that was left burning at the back of his throat) by another voice joining the conversation.

“Aren’t you all a picture?”

Jacob was suddenly striding out the front door, making his way slowly down the steps towards them. Anna turned to face him, suddenly back on her guard, and John was forced to remember that she’d never been face-to-face with him since that night in the church. Certainly ironic that they should be reunited several hundred yards away from that very spot…

His brother came to stand only a foot or two away, easily towering over the slight deputy; Anna was forced to crane her neck to stare up at him, but showed no signs of being intimidated, eyes focused and hard as she glanced back at him. Jacob gave her a onceover, eyes betraying nothing as he inspected her up close.

“You’re smaller than I remember.”

John stifled the urge to groan, watching Anna’s back straighten ever so slightly as she balked at his dismissal.

“Good things come in small packages,” she said stiffly, lips curling in a sneer. “You must kno-”

“Anna,” John stepped in quickly, cutting her off before she had a chance to get going.

He was spared trying to calm her or make an excuse to pull her away by the timely arrival of Joseph. All eyes turned to the Father as he stood on the top step, gazing at them all with a soft smile.

“John. Deputy,” he greeted. “I’m humbled you acquiesced to join us.”

Anna merely smiled thinly at him, impressing John with her show of self-restraint. Joseph stepped down the stairs to approach John, greeting him with a characteristic touch of his forehead to his. Instantly, John was filled with the warmth and happiness that accompanied such a gesture, heart swelling at the reminder of his brother’s presence in his life, despite all odds. The praise and recognition in Joseph’s eyes was enough to leave him feeling dangerously close to prideful, especially as his brother turned to Anna and stepped closer to greet her.

She appeared neutral in Joseph’s presence and didn’t balk as he held her face in his hands and brought his forehead to hers. The only reaction she gave was the quick shuttering of her eyelids at the contact and John watched on with a mixture of awe and self-satisfaction. This was how he’d imagined bringing Anna to Joseph playing out long ago – his brother accepting her amongst them and taking her into the fold.

John watched as Joseph tucked her arm under his and lead her up the steps. He fell quickly in line behind them, making sure neither Jacob nor Faith came between him and Anna, keeping close on their heels to hear Joseph’s soft words to her.

“John tells me of the concessions you’ve made since joining him at the ranch. Setting aside one’s pride can be difficult, but the rewards are so much greater than you can imagine.”

“One can only hope,” she replied stiffly.

“Patience, Deputy,” Joseph said, and John could practically hear the smile in his tone. “’For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Anna said nothing further in reply and allowed herself to be guided into the small dining room. The table was set, dishes strewn across the tabletop for a family meal. There was a moment where the deputy clearly planted her feet, looking at the display with open suspicion; but as John stepped forward to place a hand on her other arm, the moment her eyes met his she flattened her hackles. Still, she remained rigid even as Joseph let her drift from his grasp and towards her place.

John pulled out her chair for her and Anna stiffly set herself down, looking ready to bolt at a moment’s notice even as he helped her scoot up to the table. Joseph had been gracious enough to do the same for Faith, who smiled warmly at him in response as she sat at his other side. John could only blink in surprise as he seated himself, unaccustomed to Faith across from him. It had always been Jacob to Joseph’s right and himself to Joseph’s left…

Jacob marched straight for the last empty place and set himself down, looking entirely unfazed. It didn’t escape John’s notice that the seating changes set Jacob directly across from Anna, the two of them staring each other down the moment they were both seated. Suddenly he was left wondering who had suggested the switch up: Joseph or Jacob…?

The bowl being held out in front of him snapped his gaze back into focus; he accepted it from Joseph’s hands and slowly spooned out a portion for himself before passing it towards Anna. Jacob was busy forking a generous serving of chicken onto his plate while Faith passed a platter of vegetables to Joseph.

Anna seemed to be staring at the bowl of mac n’ cheese in her hands with an expression close to alarm as John accepted the next bowl Joseph passed to him; John could only furrow his brow in confusion and watch her slowly spoon out a small serving, trying to catalogue away in his brain a reminder to ask her about that later. He watched her slide the container across the table towards Jacob instead of passing it to him and worked to suppress the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose.

Within the next minute, the food was all served and quiet descended on the room as the bowls were set aside. Anna glanced at them all suspiciously as Joseph held out a hand to either side for John and Faith to take; her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, revealing her disapproval.

John placed his hand in Joseph’s and reached for Anna’s, which she surprisingly gave without a fuss. But as he glanced at her and took in her hard, angry eyes as she glared across the table at Jacob, he felt his stomach sour with anxiety. The two of them were engaged in a stare-off, neither blinking or taking their eyes off the other; John could only use his thumb to gently stroke at the inside of her wrist, begging for her to relent.

To his surprise, she did. Her other hand rose stiffly and reached out to meet Jacob halfway, who had followed suit the same time she did. His eldest brother’s hand was massive in comparison to hers and all but engulfed hers in its grasp. Joseph looked appeased and bowed his head but the staredown between Jacob and Anna continued and John could only dip his head and pretend to be fully postured for Joseph’s grace.

“Dear Lord – we ask you to bless this food that we are about receive. Bestow your-”

Only Faith and Joseph kept their heads bowed and eyes shut, focused on the prayer he was reciting. John kept sneaking glances at Anna and Jacob and the way their hands shook as one or both increased pressure on the grip they held on the other and tried not to focus on the way his stomach was plummeting.

“Amen.”

John was quick to echo the sentiment, gently releasing his grip on Joseph and freeing his hand. Anna wasted no time in snatching her hand back from Jacob, looking at it like she’d sooner cut it off than touch him again. Jacob, for his part, looked utterly unfazed, reaching for his utensils without missing a beat. Joseph and Faith followed suit and John forced himself to do the same; Anna merely transferred her glare from Jacob – once it was becoming evident he was done playing her game – down to her plate and inspected her food warily again.

No one moved for some time and Anna seemed slow to catch on to the eyes all lingering upon her. She looked up with wide eyes, taking in their stares before looking to John in alarm. He discreetly glanced at her plate and gave a small dip of his head; she got the message easily enough, looking back to her food with hesitation before reaching for her fork and knife. The soft scratch of the utensils on the ceramic broke the heavy silence – and some of the tension – as the others followed suit.

Concentration seemed devoted on filling stomachs with the simple meal set out before them. It gave John a chance to discreetly watch Anna’s reactions and measure just how well she was doing so far. She’d slipped back into stoicism, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since he’s had her down in his bunker all those weeks back. Her face was blank of any emotion, but her eyes were hard and fierce, exposing the fire stoked deep inside that she was managing to hold at bay…though for how much longer, he couldn’t say.

“So, John…”

His eyes snapped up to Faith instantly as she broke the silence, narrowing with suspicion at the twinkle of ill intent in her gaze.

“I hear whispers of a stalemate in the Valley…the Project and Resistance standing toe-to-toe.”

John scoffed loudly, unable to help himself.

“They merely hold the ground I allow them to,” he insisted.

“Then why not simply take it from them? What reason could you have for holding off bringing them into our family?”

His eyes immediately leapt to Anna and found her staring at him curiously; hastily, he averted his gaze before he lost his nerve, swallowing thickly. Faith’s smile was cruel as she looked at him innocently, pretending to wait for an answer. Feeling his rage brewing just beneath the surface, he reined himself in and quickly spun the situation around.

“What’s this about the halted water deliveries, dear sister?” he demanded.

Faith visibly bristled, nostrils flaring with indignation; John delighted in her anger, grinning at her smugly as he rested his chin on an upturned palm.

“A slight complication, soon enough handled,” she answered coolly, trying to smooth down her hackles.

“Trouble in the Henbane?” he asked knowingly, taking in her narrowing eyes with unbridled joy. “You’d think with the amount of Bliss polluting it, you’d have _that_ at least locked down…”

“Enough.”

Blinking in surprise, John found himself staring at the speaker – not Joseph, as he would anticipated, but his oldest brother instead.

“We don’t talk Project business here,” Jacob warned.

John stared at him with suspicion.

“What’s that supposed to mean? We always talk of-“ he started before realization dawned on him and he fell silent.

Both he and Jacob turned their gazes towards Anna together, taking in the sight of her silently watching them argue amongst themselves. Her face was a blank mask but John could see the gears turning behind her bright eyes – she was absorbing everything being said and filing it away for later. Jacob clearly understood that as well, his eyes hard as he stared her down; Anna was insolently avoiding his gaze as she masqueraded at innocence, spinning her fork through the remains of her food idly. John seized the moment to turn back towards his eldest brother, irritation stoked in his gut.  

“The Deputy already knows of Faith’s failures – there’s no need to hide it from her,” he countered.

“An enemy of the Project does not need to know more than necessary.”

“A potential convert _should_ be aware of what they are being brought into.”

Jacob raised a brow at that, surveying John critically.

“You’re so certain of that, are you?” he asked, glancing at Anna out of the corner of his eye. “Cause I hear a different story from Joseph.”

It was John’s turn to bristle, staring at Jacob in outrage before swinging a glance over at Joseph; he took in his other brother’s passive expression and felt a stab of hurt echo in his chest, swallowing back anger and embarrassment as best he could.

“You think anything I hear now changes something?” Anna spoke up suddenly, eyes still cast down at her plate as she toyed with her fork. “Doesn’t matter how much or little you share…you remain the same in my eyes.”

Jacob turned to face her fully, staring at her a moment before his mouth curled upwards in a small, cruel smile.

“You still planning on bringing us all in in the end, is that it, Deputy?” he asked, tone quietly mocking. “You think you could manage that all on your own?”

“Oh no,” she replied quickly, voice dangerously calm. “You don’t bring in a mad dog…”

She looked up from her plate and stared pointedly at Jacob, eyes hard and cold as steel.

“You put it down.”

The tension was electric once more and John shifted nervously in his chair. Faith, too, seemed uneasy, eyes shifting between Jacob and Anna rapidly. Joseph merely watched the exchange with a neutral expression, gaze more on Anna than his brother. Jacob, for his part, appeared almost amused with such a response, going back to his meal clearly unaffected.

The soft tinkering of his silverware against his plate seemed to be the only thing to break the moment; slowly, Faith followed suit, as did John. Anna stared harshly at Jacob before stiffly bringing her fork back to her mouth. Chancing a glance at Joseph, John found him still studying Anna intently and felt his nerves return in full force.

“When was the last time you had a shared meal?”

Anna visibly stiffened at such a shift in conversation, staring at Joseph with wide eyes that narrowed quickly with suspicion.

“With my coworker, just a few days before the arrest,” she answered woodenly.

“A family meal,” Joseph pressed gently.

She scoffed, the noise harsh in the otherwise silent room.

“Christmas. With Chief Deputy Shaw back in Jackson County.”

“You consider him family?”

“…’Bout the closest thing I have left.”

The stabbing motions she made with her fork were rigid and John knew Joseph was treading dangerous water with her.

“Would he know to suspect something was wrong, having not heard from you in so long?”

Anna remained silent. John could only take in her discomfort for so long before turning and giving Joseph a pleading look, hoping he understood that he was toying with a ticking time bomb. His brother’s gaze remained focused solely on Anna, ignoring his appeal.

“There remain open lines of communication to outside of the county. Plenty of friends and families have called enquiring about loved ones, all assured of the situation at hand. Should we be expecting one from your family friend?”

Her mouth was working furiously behind her lips, causing them to twitch as she glared viciously at her fork in hand, refusing to return Joseph’s stare.

“No,” she forced out finally, teeth grit together.

“Why not?”

“…He knows better than to expect consistency from me.”

“Why is that? Dependability seems to be a resounding compliment towards you.”

“Joseph,” John tried to cut in, feeling the air start to shift.

“Because whenever I leave Jackson County, I tend to make myself scarce.”

“Jackson County…not ‘home’?”

“I haven’t had a home in a very long time.”

“Is that what brought you here? Searching for a place to call your own?”

Anna discarded her fork violently upon the tabletop, letting it clatter towards Jacob. She pinned Joseph in a scorching stare as she bared her teeth at him.

“What, are we playing 20 Questions or something?”

“You’re not the first to come before the Father, lost and alone,” Faith assured her. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in feeling that way. Eden’s Gate understands your struggle to find your place in a world that doesn’t seem to have one for you.”  

She rounded on Faith, staring at her intensely.

“How is it that the daughter of two of the most affluent people in the county winds up amongst the inner circle of the Project? What do mom and dad think of your role in the community?”

The way she spoke…John had a sneaking suspicion she knew more than she let on. If memory served him correctly, Faith’s former friend Tracey was one of the figureheads holed up at the Jail: it wouldn’t be implausible for her to have shared any of their past to Anna in the weeks she’d been running around the county for the Resistance. Faith, to her credit, didn’t rise to the bait, nor truly react to it – she merely looked upon Anna with indifference.

“This is my family now. I am a Seed, not a Jessop. The only judgment I need is in the eyes of the Father and God. I’ve found my place in this world…I’m not searching anymore.”

“And Rachel? When will she stop searching?”

Faith’s composure faltered, finally looking startled. John gazed curiously between them, wondering at the intensity and hidden knowledge behind Anna’s eyes as she sat watching Faith like a hawk. She looked ready to pounce on Faith’s faltering confidence before Jacob spoke up suddenly.

“You always meet personal questions with aggression, Deputy? Some might say that’s a conditioned emotional response. You been burned before, opening up to someone?”

John turned a withering stare on his eldest brother just as Anna slowly spun around to glare murderously at him. Jacob merely held her gaze, looking unbothered by all the eyes upon him.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she offered derisively. “I didn’t realize you held a degree in psychology.”

“Call it a passion project.”

“Oh, I’ll call you something, alright-”

“It’s getting late,” John cut in quickly, shooting a glare over at Jacob before turning towards Joseph. “There’s still a flight back ahead of us. Surely-”

“In such a rush to end spending time with your family, John?” his brother asked as he turned his unflinching gaze upon him. “Family is all we have in times like these…and we already see so little of one another amidst the chaos that unfolds.”

Face feeling hot, John quickly backtracked.

“Forgive me, Joseph. I only meant-“

“You only meant to spare the Deputy’s feelings,” Joseph said sagely. “It’s alright. A discussion for another time.”

He pushed back his chair and John and Jacob quickly followed suit. Anna remained seated, eyes darting between them in confusion before taking in the sight of John’s offered hand to her and slowly placing hers in it. She slipped from her chair sidled up close to his side, eyeing the other siblings warily as they left the dining table and filed into the adjoining room.

John led them into the back of the procession, crossing the threshold into the small sitting room after the others. Anna took in the furniture – about the only real features in the space – before settling on Faith as she claimed an armchair for herself. Jacob took the other one across the room, propping his feet up on the ottoman nearby and folding his hands across his belly.

Anna remained on her feet, tugging John with her as she toured the room. Her eyes had taken in the console piano in the corner and brought them closer to it, her fingers reached out to skim the keys with almost reverence.

“John tells me you sing, Deputy,” Joseph said, noting her actions. “Do you also play?”

“No. My mother did…but I never learned,” she answered quietly.

Her eyes finally swung back towards Joseph.

“Do any of you play?”

“John does,” he answered simply.

Anna turned quickly, looking back at John with an expression of shock.

“You do?” she asked quietly.

John couldn’t help but feel pleased at the way she was looking at him, feeling himself sit a little taller.

“Didn’t know that, Deputy?”

The moment was instantly soured by Jacob’s voice. Her eyes narrowed, the warmth in them seconds prior replaced with ice as she turned to glare at his eldest brother.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t been serenading you on that pretty little thing he has tucked away in one of the corners of the ranch.”

John sensed the shift of emotions on her face based on Jacob’s eyes; when she finally turned back to look towards him, her confusion was evident.

“What is he talking about?” she asked.

“You wouldn’t have seen it. It was removed before you arrived.”

“Why’s that, John?” Jacob asked for her, still playing calm and indifferent.

A lump formed in his throat as John panicked a moment. There was only one answer to give…and the weight of Joseph’s stare left him choking on the words.

“It was sent to my Gate,” he said honestly, albeit quietly.

“John...”

He winced at the disapproval in Joseph’s voice but forced himself to meet his gaze.

“Material possessions are poison. You know this. Your orders were to collect only the essentials. To what purpose does such an object serve beyond vanity, and a reminder of the life you once led?”

Before John even had a chance to work on his reply, Anna was stepping in front of him, placing herself between he and Joseph.

“Even if it is material, what does it matter? Music brings people together – it lifts spirits and calms souls. Having it down in the bunker would be beneficial to all, no matter the intent behind placing it there.”

Her eyes were fierce as she stared Joseph down, willing him to argue with her.

“Do you really expect people to sit around for however many years together, with just prayer and bibles to keep them sane?”

John felt a flash of horror at her brazenness but Joseph only offered her a small smile, stunning him.

“And what of the books, the crafts, the chores - everything else that will occupy their time below? Or of the guitars I know to have been spirited down already?”

“That’s like comparing apples to oranges. They’re not the same – and maybe one of them agrees with one person’s palate but not someone else’s. It’s about covering all your bases…shouldn’t people’s happiness be priority?”

“People’s safety should be priority,” Jacob cut in before Joseph had a chance to reply. “Which is why John _should_ be focused on acquiring resources to help keep us alive and running…food, clothes…the people themselves…”

Turning slowly, Anna levelled a glare back on the eldest Seed once more.

“People who don’t want what you’re offering – or at this point, forcing upon them?” she demanded.

“If they haven’t accepted, that’s on them. Doesn’t change John’s orders in the slightest.”

Anna’s eyes narrowed towards him.

“John’s orders…what, stealing people and supplies and shoving them underground? That’s really all there is to it?”

“You’ve been bunking with him all this time and don’t even know for certain?” Jacob asked, shifting to lean back leisurely in his chair.

For once, she didn’t rise to his bait, thoughts flickering behind her eyes like minnows in a pond. Finally, she turned away from Jacob and towards Faith for the first time since leaving the dining room.

“Faith’s are something to do with all that Bliss polluting the water and air out in the Henbane?”

She turned fully towards her, smile unkind.

“How’s that going, by the way? I hope me reclaiming the water treatment center and the fly shop didn’t affect your schedule _too_ badly.”

Faith merely smiled pleasantly at her, the gesture not reflected in her eyes. Not sparing her another moment to reply, Anna whirled back towards Jacob.

“And what are your orders? What is your purpose?”

“There are two kinds of people in this world, Deputy: the Weak and the Strong. It’s my job to sort through those sent to me and put them in their correct category.”

Anna’s fists clenched at her sides as she pinned Jacob in a scorching stare; ee easily held her gaze as he continued speaking.

“The Strong are those who will look after us in the new world, the fighters, the protectors. The ones who search for those hiding away – away from the gifts the Project offers them – and bring them forth for judgment. We do what others can’t or won’t do in order to ensure our future.”

“And the Weak?” Anna demanded, voice taut.

“The Weak…offer no such services. No benefits to the Project, no aid to their neighbors. The Weak are dealt with accordingly.”

John saw her nostrils flare as she processed what she was hearing and felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. As he discreetly inched closer towards her, he watched her narrowed eyes fix on Jacob once more.

“What have you done with Deputy Pratt?”

Jacob didn’t seem surprised by such a sudden shift in topic, a small smile appearing on his lips at her blatant aggression.

“Ahhhh…Peaches,” he said, taking in her bristling stance. “Worried about your coworker? Or…is there more?”

“Where is he?” she insisted, taking a step forward. “If you’ve hurt him, I swear-“

“Hurt him? Like John did to your pal Hudson?” Jacob asked.

John’s eyes snapped open, looking at Jacob in shock for a moment before taking in Anna’s narrowed eyes as she whirled on him. He could see the gears turning in her head, of remembering the harms he’d inflicted on Hudson both in and out of her sight. A flash of shame washed over him as he took in the disapproval and anger behind her eyes; it was quickly replaced by anger as he turned his gaze back on Jacob in outrage.

“He’s alive, don’t worry yourself about that,” Jacob assured her.

“And where does he fall on this supposed scale of yours?” she demanded.

Jacob’s eyes shined peculiarly in the low lighting, making his even smile appear menacing even in John’s eyes.

“Peaches hasn’t proven himself yet. But if I were to guess, he’s on the Weak side. In the end, if that’s what he exposes himself to be…well, you can have him back, then. I’ll gladly give you what’s left.”

It wasn’t quite a lunge but John intercepted it all the same before it carried her straight over to Jacob. She struggled in his hold, eyes only on her prey.

 “ _Anna, stop_ ,” he insisted. “You can’t win that fight.”

“We don’t know that – I’ve never tried before,” she growled, still fighting to reach Jacob.

“ _Anna_ -“

“Let her go, John,” Jacob said, watching the exchange passively. “Let’s see how she does.”

“ _Jacob_!” he snapped, turning a glare on his eldest brother. “Stop!”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed as he pinned him in a stare; instantly, John felt cowed under his brother’s disapproval, a spark of shame rising in his gut. But just as quickly, he pushed it aside in favor of keeping Anna restrained, knowing her safety took priority over his brother’s feelings.

“Enough.”

Joseph’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife, even with how evenly he spoke. Everyone reacted accordingly, their aggression and antagonism evaporating in the wake of his disapproval. Even Anna seemed submissive, still rigid with tension but letting up her struggle; she shook herself out of John’s grasp and he let her, watching as she stepped off to the side with a glower, still eyeing Jacob nastily. Jacob, for his part, looked unbothered, back to appearing bored even as Joseph stared at him for a long moment.

“Deputy.”

Joseph finally turned his gaze back towards her, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“Come with me. I believe you can use some air.”

Both John and Anna reacted to the command, jolting with surprise and alarm. Before he even had a chance to speak, Joseph was already looking towards him.

“John, stay and make peace with your siblings. The Deputy and I are only taking a walk.”

“Joseph-”

“ _John_.”

He didn’t miss the light warning in his brother’s tone. Gritting his teeth in frustration was about all he could do, unwilling to talk back and risk further disapproval or punishment. A light hand on his arm had him jolting to look towards Anna suddenly back at his side, gazing at him with a certain softness.

“It’s alright,” she told him gently.

John could see the slight trepidation in her eyes, but it was matched by resolve. His gut was in knots as he nodded and let her slip away from him and towards Joseph. Watching them walk through the doorway, nearly side by side, left him with an indescribable feeling: somewhere between hopeful and teeming with dread.

He watched them slip out into the darkness outside, the house growing quiet for the first time since their arrival, and felt himself accepting that it was dread that filled him most now.

* * *

 

Having to contend with Faith and Jacob in the interim where Joseph and Anna were off on their own was something akin to torture. Normally, he could tolerate Faith and had few issues with Jacob…but given both their behavior towards Anna over the course of the night, he was left feeling miserable in their presence.

Just as the silence was beginning to become unbearable, it was broken by a soft voice that still seemed to slice through the air like a knife.

“Had to see if for myself to believe it…”

Looking up from his folded hands, John glanced at Jacob as he sat relaxed on the couch across from him.

“See what?” John asked.

“Joseph told me you’d set your sights on the Deputy,” Jacob answered. “That you’re looking to make this long term.”

John felt his eyes narrow, disliking the underlying scorn in Jacob’s choice of words. Anna wasn’t prepared for such a future so there was no merit in proclaiming that it was indeed the truth…but Jacob didn’t need to know that. Not when he clearly held such disdain for her.

“It is my hope to step into the new Eden together with her, yes,” he answered as diplomatically as he could.

“You’ve always had the luxury of having your pick of women,” Jacob said after a moment. “Any number of girls from the Project would leap at the chance to be with you. Why settle for this one?”

A sharp flare of anger rose in his chest at the word “settle”; as if he’d just decided one day that he was done being loose and spun a wheel on which woman he’d bed and wed.

“She’s special,” Faith cut in suddenly.

John could only blink, surprised by the candor she seemed to speak with. She turned to face Jacob from the chair she lounged on, tilting her head at him as she leaned closer.

“You haven’t spent any time with her yet – you haven’t seen what Joseph sees in her.”

Jacob pinned her in a long hard stare.

“I haven’t had to spend much time with her to realize she can’t be converted.”

“Perhaps not through conventional methods…”

She turned back towards John and he saw the calculating look behind her eyes for a moment before she swept it away with a smile.

“I was close when I had her in the Bliss…she could be so very happy there…”

Leaning closer, her eyes practically sparkling, she trapped him in a stare.

“Do you know what she sees in paradise? What she longs for most?”

“Her parents.”

Even without Anna having told him previously, he could have guessed it was what she’d be tempted by. The childhood stolen from her, the loving mother and father lost so long ago…it remained what tormented her most, even now trapped in the midst of a war between the Project and the nonbelievers.

In all his exposure to Bliss, he’d never been allowed to become consumed by it like Faith had, or to waltz in and out of it as Joseph did. His past college days and the early years in the firm were filled with coke, heroin, ecstasy – anything to give him a high to combat the anger and bitterness that consumed him. Even if he no longer remained in their grasp, it would be so easy to slip back down that dark path…Bliss was not something he was keen on allowing to influence him.

But if he ever had…what would he find in that ethereal plane that Faith held dominion over? Would it be so farfetched to think he might have once looked to the past as Anna did: back to the days before the Duncans, before Joseph, Jacob, and he were all separated? Back when he also was still innocent and happy…

“She longs for a family,” Faith continued, eyes glued to him as she observed his expression. “The one she lost…the one she’s almost found.”

It would be a lie to say her words didn’t spark something akin to longing within him. All he wanted was his family together in Eden – and Anna Bishop had become a part of that picture painted in his head. She continually made it difficult with her stubbornness but he didn’t want to imagine life moving forward without her by his side. Even if she didn’t love him…even if she might never-

“Give her back to me, John, and you can have a future together. You can both be happy – isn’t that what you want?”

All at once, the burning ember of hope in his chest extinguished as he leveled her in a glare.

_You’ve got some gall trying to spin your web around me…_

“Why not spare you both the trouble and just hand her over to me?”

John and Faith both turned together to stare at Jacob in surprise; for his part, he wasn’t even looking at either of them, eyes shut as he sat hunched over his knees with his hands clasped.

“If you’re both so certain about her, give her to me. I’ll make a Chosen out of her. It’d give me peace of mind knowing you have someone capable close at hand.”

“She is capable,” John protested quickly.

“Capable _and_ trustworthy.”

There was nothing to argue back with; even if she ever showed signs of embracing the Project, it wouldn’t satisfy Jacob. His suspicions would never be satisfied until she proved to him that she was worthy…and there was only one surefire way for nonbelievers to earn their keep in his eyes…

“No,” John said flatly after a moment.

Jacob merely smiled at him, eyes finally opening as he looked his way.

“You just said she was capable – what has you worrying?”

John could only stare at his eldest brother uneasily. Anna had probed into Jacob’s Trials earlier and he had been upfront about not knowing much of what happened within them. But he’d gleaned enough to know that no one who went through them came out the same; they changed, for better or worse.

“It’s unnecessary,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. “I’m handling her Atonement.”

“And when is that coming?” Jacob pressed.

“Soon,” John answered simply.

Jacob made a sound in the back of his throat.

“ _Soon…_ ,” he echoed mockingly. “The Collapse comes soon. A lot can happen between now and ‘soon’. What sort of precautions are you taking against Fall’s End in the meantime?”

It was John’s turn to scoff.

“They all cower together behind their meager defenses. There’s no need to fear retaliation from them anytime soon.”

“Did you think that when they raided your Gate?” Jacob asked curtly, causing John to raise his hackles. “If you’re so certain this time around, what is stopping you from moving in and stomping out their resistance now, at this very moment?”

He voiced the same question Faith had earlier, and the answer to both remained unchanged: Anna. He could easily bear down all his forces on the town and have it fall once more to the Project by tomorrow morning. The time would have to come for Jerome, Mary May, the Ryes – even dear Deputy Hudson – to choose salvation or death, and he was astutely aware the longer the conflict dragged out, the less likely they were to repent and lay down their arms.

But if he moved too soon…Anna would never forgive him. Of that he was certain. And if there was a chance for a future between them he couldn’t risk it. They already stood on such uncertain footing, as if the ground might give way at any moment; but recently, it had started to feel as if things were steadying…that they might be reaching some middle ground after all.

“There’s not going to be a ‘riding off into the sunset’ moment, John,” Jacob said, seemingly reading his thoughts. “Do yourself a favor and send her down to your Gate before things escalate further.”

“Joseph wants her to _join_ us,” Faith reminded him.

“Cleansing, Confession, Atonement…I saw the tattoo with my own eyes,” Jacob said. “Cut it off already and be done with it.”

“Patience,” was all John had to offer, feeling drained.

Fingers rising to the bridge of his nose, he rubbed his face gingerly, feeling a headache forming behind his eyes.

“Wrath, huh?”

At the sound of his voice, John wearily raised his eyes to look towards Jacob again. His brother’s gaze was on the wall, thoughts flickering behind his eyes.

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into, John. There’s only way I see this ending…and that’s in heartbreak.”

Despite having swatted away all other comments Jacob had levelled at him over the course of the night, John couldn’t help but feel his heart sink as he processed those particular words. No, that couldn’t come to pass. After everything he had endured during the course of his life – with the eve of the Collapse and the end of the world that had tried so hard to destroy him close at hand – God couldn’t have brought Anna to him for any other reason than a future together. Anything else would just be too cruel…he’d suffered too much - _she’d_ suffered too much - to not have earned a gentle epilogue.

The only things that seemed determined to make that impossible were Jacob, and Faith, and-

“Joseph!”

Jolting upright, John whipped around to spot his brother walking calmly through the door. He walked in alone and for a moment of blind panic, John feared the worst. A few seconds later, however, a familiar crown of dirty blonde hair appeared and he breathed out shakily as Anna entered the home. John was on his feet instantly, moving to greet her; Anna strode straight for him, practically into his arms.

Her gaze remained downcast, avoiding his eyes and John felt his brow furrow with concern. Meekness was not something he associated with her – not in facing those she felt opposed her. She met obstacles head on, charging in before daring to ask questions. And yet…he could feel the confusion and unease wafting off her, different from the trepidation of earlier.

Just what had been discussed in private with Joseph? What had her so afraid?

“It’s getting late,” Joseph said finally, drawing John’s eyes to him. “You’re free to leave at your leisure. Mind the skies as you pass the island.”

Anna didn’t even react to the mention of Dutch Roosevelt’s prowling grounds. Before John had a chance to get another good look at her, Joseph was pulling him into a hug and he had to struggle against the urge to shut his eyes in the embrace. His brother’s arms had always made him feel safe and wanted…the dimmest of his earliest memories were of Joseph’s arms sheltering him from the terrors that lurked beyond their bedroom wall or door. Tonight, he felt no different…but his eyes strayed to Anna as Faith glided over to grab her hands tightly. His sister leaned in and whispered in the deputy’s ear, voice too low to hear.

“Take care, John,” Joseph said as he pulled back. “Remember that God is watching…every decision, every choice, every move we make in these coming days will define the paths we walk.”

There was something in those words that rang warning bells in his head, but John refused to entertain them just yet, too frazzled to think of much else other than the small woman stepping away from his sister without a parting word. Faith spun to face John and approached him with wide arms, wrapping him in a soft hug.

“Take care of the Deputy,” she whispered condescendingly in his ear.

When she pulled back, she had a congenial smile on her face that only made the mocking light in her eyes stand on further. Forcing his anger down before it could erupt, he said no more to her, turning on his heel to face Jacob. His eldest brother remained in his seat, watching the exchanges with a touch of apathy. Still, he gave him a nod of farewell, a gesture John curtly returned. Jacob said nothing to Anna and she didn’t even look his way as she stood waiting for Joseph to reach her.

The Father leaned down to press his forehead to the top of her head. When he pulled back, Anna met his eyes warily after a moment of hesitation.

“When we next meet, I pray God will have shined the light of his wisdom down upon you,” Joseph said simply.

That didn’t seem to placate her; if anything, she looked just as uncomfortable as she had when she’d followed him through the door only a few minutes prior. John stepped forward the moment Joseph started to pull back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders; she didn’t resist in the slightest, leaning into him as they walked through the front door together. He could feel the eyes of his siblings watching their departure and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, squeezing the deputy a little tighter as he shepherded them back in the direction of Affirmation.

* * *

 

The flight back to the ranch had been uncomfortably tense. Even if John couldn’t see her while facing forwards, he could feel the agitation coming off Anna in waves. He didn’t utter a word to her until they were approaching the runway and he announced their descent over the headset. Easing Affirmation to a halt a couple hundred feet from the hangar, he pulled himself from the cockpit and landed easily in the dirt below.  Anna was already out of the gunner seat and waiting for him to help her down, leaning on him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered her to the ground but otherwise detached as she stared into space.

They walked together back towards the hangar, the only sound between them the dirt and rocks crunching beneath their boots. John chanced a sideways glance at her and took in the serious expression on her face and swallowed around a lump in his throat.

“I hate your brother.”

John started at her sudden proclamation, unprepared for such venom. His gaze turned pained as he took in the sight of the wrath behind her eyes that supported such a statement.

“You have to understand: everything Joseph does-”

“Joseph?”

She stopped short to give him a confused look.

“I wasn’t talking about him.”

He merely blinked in surprise before his mouth settled in a grimace.

_Ah. Jacob…_

Why he hadn’t anticipated he was the subject of her ire was beyond him – perhaps because she had interacted last with Joseph and seemed skittish about whatever they had spoken about in private. But it had been Jacob baiting her the whole night and her antagonizing him right back…it made sense that she would still be most angry with him.

“Jacob…is the strongest man I know,” he started, voice quieter than he intended. “He’s been through so much more than you and I could ever fully understand. War changes people…”

“It doesn’t give him the right to be a dick,” she shot back quickly. “Grace Armstrong went to war too and you don’t see her sending wolves off to tear people apart.”

He gave her a sad look that made her fall silent, some of the heat vanishing from her eyes.

“You know then that Grace had a father who loved and cherished her…something Jacob never had.”

Philip Armstrong had been a thorn in the Project’s side for countless years…along with Gary Fairgrave and Jerome Jeffries, he’d rounded out the trio of opposition to the Project’s spreading influence and to John’s very own growing grasp on the Valley. He’d been a torment for so long…but that hadn’t stopped John from acknowledging or admiring his strength and conviction. Another war veteran struggling with coming home to peace and quiet – and yet he remained devoted to his child and community. He’d been such a pillar of support and guidance for the holdouts in the Valley…John felt something akin to a twinge of regret knowing how Philip had met his end.

He glanced over at Anna, wondering if Grace had ever told her what had befallen her father. It shouldn’t have happened that way…nothing should have happened the way it had. Philip Armstrong shouldn’t have been driven into the river, never to resurface. Gary Fairgrave should never have come searching for John, guns blazing and unwilling to be talked down.

When it came to defending his own life and the safety of the Project, John felt no hesitation or remorse. But he’d torn apart families he’d envied from afar – intentionally or not. He had to wonder if that wasn’t why people like Grace and Mary May flocked to Anna, and how attached she’d quickly become to them in return: all daughters who lost a father who had held their eternal love and devotion.

A bond between parent and child he’d never experienced for himself.

It was a sobering thought – one that left John feeling uneasy with the emotion it stirred inside him. Anna looked equally off-put, still clearly dwelling on the unlucky lot in life that Jacob had drawn. John reached out to swipe a thumb across her cheek absently.

“I’ll meet you inside in a bit,” he told her. “Don’t wait up for me, it might take a while.”

Giving him a long, searching look, she finally gave a mixture of a nod and a shrug before departing silently. John watched her go, conflicted over his need to think through things on his own and his desire to be near her and draw comfort from her proximity. Turning away from her retreating form, he watched his men taxi Affirmation from the runway towards the hangar, slowly backing it into cover. He was swiftly shooing them away the second the engine was cut, watching them all filter out and away to other duties before climbing back onto the wing.

Settling back inside the cockpit, he merely sat behind the controls and stared into the dark treeline, letting his thoughts drift aimlessly. They all seemed destined to bounce back to that dreadful dinner, try as he might to avoid the topic. It might not have been a total disaster, but it hadn’t gone well either. Jacob and Faith were still so antagonistic towards Anna – and she even more so towards them.

And Joseph…where had he spirited Anna away to anyway? What had they discussed or viewed together that had her so stoic upon her return? If she was still heated enough to tear into Jacob instead of Joseph, it couldn’t have been so terrible…right? And yet, she had been so skittish when she was back by his side…

He didn’t dare ask what had transpired between them. Not yet, anyway. There was no doubt in his mind that if he pushed her on it, Anna would rebuff him and close herself off entirely. As much as he detested having to wait for such things, he’d force himself to remain quiet and allow her to smooth down her hackles before approaching.

Jacob would scoff at him if he knew the concessions that he was willing to make – but he’d be wrong to jest at John’s line of thinking. A partnership had to have as much give as it did take…Anna had been very generous in what she had put up with from him and others until now. It was only fair that he meet her halfway, much as she had proclaimed he was unable to all those weeks prior.

He hadn’t been unable to back then…he’d merely been unwilling. It sat heavily in his stomach that she had been right about so much so far – he was supposed to be the one opening her eyes and instead she seemed to be opening his. What did that say about this whole arrangement they had going on? What did it mean for the future?

So many questions that left his head spinning; when he finally found he could focus again, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to hold back the ache that seemed to be forming behind his eyes. As he clambered out of Affirmation and exited the hangar, he felt as if his head was starting to pound…only for him to realize it was the distant pound of a stereo’s speakers he was hearing. The lights were all still on in the ranch as he approached, ears straining to pick up on the unfamiliar melody as he crossed the threshold.

The music was far louder inside the house, trapped within the walls to echo in the space. Anna was between the dining table and the stereo, dancing by herself to the rhythm pounding in her ears. There was a bottle of scotch clutched in one hand that she kept in a tight grip as she spun in her socks, raising it to her lips to take a hearty swig from. He almost thought to ask her how she’d managed to find his stash – recognizing the brand as only one he would possess – before thinking better of it and merely shaking his head with an amused exhalation of breath.

“ _Give a little bit of heart and soul! Give a little bit of love to grow_!”

It was uplifting to see her being carefree, if even for a moment…and unspeakably amusing listening to her trying to sing two parts at the same time, even as they overlapped.

“Walking on the water-A _walk on the waterrrr!-_ Do you keep a secret left _-Is all that I needddd!”_

John could only scoff lightly, unwilling to fight the smile working across his face as she danced closer.

“C’mon, unwind!” she said with a nudge, pushing the bottle into his hands. “We both need to.”

It didn’t take much more coaxing to have him accepting her offering. Try as he might to avoid the bottle – remembering days long since passed, where he swam in drink upon drink upon drink – there were days that wore him down more than others and he fell back into the least destructive of his old habits. Tonight had been one such night, leaving him throwing his head back and taking a strong swig straight from the bottle. He grit his teeth at the kick it left going down his throat and straight to his stomach, realizing it had been longer than he realized since he last partook…

Anna had already danced away, spinning as her hands rose over her head and wove through the air. John watched from his spot by the table, ignoring just how loud the stereo was blasting from behind him as he observed her. It was probably the most unguarded she had ever been around him…he wasn’t sure how much she’d had to drink before he’d arrived inside, but he had a feeling it didn’t play quite as big a factor as it otherwise might have.

This might have been the Anna he could have met before that fateful night in the church, had they met under different circumstances. How different would things have been if they been brought together on an ordinary day instead…

_“Give a little bit of heart and soul! Give a little bit of love to grow!”_

“We should probably be getting glasses out for this,” he noted wryly as she came closer, eyes solely on him.

“ _Give a little bit of heart and soul! And don’t you make me beg for more_!” she crooned with a smile as she pressed against him.

She stood on tiptoe and he leaned down to meet her, eyes closing in preparation…just in time to feel her slip the bottle out of his hands. Her eyes were as mischievous as her smile as she took a step back, still shimmying as she brought the bottle up to her lips. Taking several giant swigs, her eyes never left his and John found it suddenly hard to swallow as he was struck by desire like a bolt of lightning.

“Dance with me,” she told him as she handed the bottle back, making sure their fingers touched.

“Not to this,” he told her pointedly.

She made a show of looking affronted, placing a hand over her heart.

“Ouch. I love this song,” she said.

Anna strode by him for the stereo, pawing through the cassettes, CDs, and vinyls procured for her weeks prior. Taking another swig of scotch, he sighed deeply and tried unsuccessfully not to let his thoughts drift back towards dinner.

“I suppose we should really talk about tonight at some point,” he offered up, voice gentle but still loud to be heard over the music blasting.

“I suppose,” she agreed. “But not now.”

“Not now,” he echoed softly, shutting his eyes.

T’Pau cut off swiftly, leaving the room uncomfortably silent for just a few moments before new music took its place. It was actually something he knew, for a change, and he tried not to smile to himself as the beat swelled into the rafters.

“Now you’re gonna dance with me,” Anna said, delivering the words on tiptoe as she came up from behind.

She was grabbing him by the hands and pulling him into the clearest spot in the room. He barely had time to place the bottle on the dining table before she was maneuvering him to follow her movements, pushing and pulling him to and fro.

“It’s not Saturday,” he noted as he listened to the chorus.

“Shut up,” she said with a smile.

She stepped away from him, eyes taunting; he ensnared her by the wrist and reeled her back in before she had a chance to go far; Anna let herself be caught, twirling towards him until their chests connected lightly. As he playfully dipped her, the laughter that tore from her throat was music in and of itself. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d never heard her laugh like that before – full of genuine delight and humor. At least, _he’d_ never been the cause of such a sound until now…

It was in that moment that he realized he wanted to be the source of such happiness every single day, whatever the cost.

* * *

 

If there was one small blessing following the night at the compound, it was that things seemed relatively the same between John and Anna. Her ire remained focused on his siblings and – thankfully – _not_ him so he avoided her bouts of rage that suddenly came about when she let her thoughts wander back to the family dinner over the next few days.

And she seemed to be dwelling on that quite a lot. When she wasn’t angry, she seemed…lost. There was a mixture of confusion and worry in her eyes that made John’s heart wrench, wondering just what plagued her. It didn’t take a genius to realize most of it had to come from whatever she and Joseph talked about while alone…but she hadn’t brought it up yet and he tried to be patient and let her come around on her own.

They sat in the grass out in the side yard, resting after running around for an hour with the Thorne children and watched them continue to sprint around after each other. Anna sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she gazed out at the trees in the distance. John watched her from where he reclined, rolling his tongue over his teeth as he contemplated how to tackle the situation.

“What’s on your mind?” he settled for finally.

She gave him a sideways glance before looking back out in front of her, brow furrowing slightly.

“What is Faith to you? Truly?”

John merely blinked at her, caught off guard by such a question.

“She’s been adopted into my family. She’s my sister.”

“She told me she thinks you’re not capable of loving anyone other than your brothers. Made no attempts to avoid implicating that there’s no real bond between you two.”

He took in the slight flush on her cheeks for a moment before staring out in front of them, watching the children scuttle through the dirt after one another noisily.

“…she isn’t the first Faith,” he admitted after several moments. “There were a handful before her. They all failed in their devotion to the Project…she might have been no different…I made sure not to try and get close to her.”

“…What happened to the other Faiths?” Anna probed gently, looking at him with unwavering attention.

“…I never asked. Seemed better to not stick my nose where it didn’t belong,” he said as he plucked at the grass beside him aimlessly.

She was staring at him still, even as he avoided her gaze and kept his eyes on the ground beneath him. Eventually, he felt her turn away and was relieved of the weight of her piercing eyes; still, it didn’t make him feel much better, feeling the tension that had descended between them after his last words.

“You think me unfeeling for that?” he asked casually.

There was a long pause before she answered.

“I think you turning a blind eye towards everything going on around you is distressing in more ways than one.”

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a slight sting to accompany her response…as merited as it was. When it came to his family – to the future of the Project – he’d done everything in his power to prepare them for the Collapse. What he himself hadn’t committed in the name of the Father, he’d allowed his siblings to do in his stead, turning the other way to avoid implication. Their hands were all dirty, try as they might to posture before each other and Joseph – they all did horrible things for Eden’s Gate to flourish.

Once the Collapse came and they were all safe underground with their flock, they could make amends. Joseph himself had assured them that everything they did now – all the violence and hypocrisy to their creed – would be washed away by the dawning of the new world. Their slates would be wiped clean, free to start again as new men and women.  All the nonbelievers they had taken in would be forced to see that they had been given a gift – the gift of mercy, to live and thrive with them in the new Eden.

John had believed that with certainty before. But now…now he found himself with lingering doubt. The more harm he inflicted, the more anger that seemed to be directed his way. Would taking the Resistance and forcing them below ground truly solve their differences? In the promised seven years in solitude, could it be possible for only love and acceptance to grow amongst them? Or would resentment fester and spread, rotting outwards from the core?

Doubt was not something John had entertained in a very long time. His faith in Joseph, in his Word, was infallible…and yet…

His eyes drifted back to Anna, still sitting with her sights set on the far away tree line, brow furrowed in concentration, and felt his fingers twitch. Fighting the urge to reach out to her, knowing her reaction would be lukewarm at best, he instead cycled through his thoughts for the right words to say.

“Anna…in the end-”

“Shh!”

“Just-”

“SHH!”

He blinked owlishly at her second attempt to silence him and was left staring as she stood abruptly, posture tense and readied as she took several steps away and came to a standstill, gaze sweeping the horizon. John felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at her behavior, straining to see and hear what had her on alert.

There were plenty of guards still patrolling the grounds – they should be able to pick up on any imminent threats that would threaten their safety here. And yet…he had thought that previously too. Right up until a lone woman – armed only with a pistol and nerves of steel - slipped through all his security measures and stole Nick Rye’s plane back right out from under all of their noses…

The Resistance didn’t have anyone else like Anna Bishop – there was no doubt in John’s mind that there wasn’t a single person alive who could ever compare. Still…there were plenty of wily, foolhardy individuals who lurked in their ranks. He’d learned once before not to underestimate them when they’d managed to besiege his bunker – what was supposed to be the most fortified and prepared place in the whole Valley – and would not make the same mistake again.

His hand had slipped down to the holster on his thigh, gripping the pistol tightly as Anna walked forward again, heading towards the treeline and stopping short. Abruptly, she let forth a sharp, ear piercing whistle that made John stand fully at attention, pistol unholstered and at his side in an instant.

“Anna!” he called, voice low and tight as he glanced around for any sign of Resistance forces.

She ignored him, gaze still stalwart on the field before her and the tree line behind it. John hesitated in approaching her, fingers twitching around his pistol. He wasn’t afraid of her turning on him, not when they’d discussed rather openly of her thoughts on the Project and the Resistance and the fight between them at length; rather, he feared for her getting caught in the middle of anything that might unfold in the darkening twilight hours. She could get hit by friendly fire from either side.

“Anna!” he hissed, quickening his pace as she took a few more steps forward and whistled again.

His ears suddenly caught a sound in the distance and he stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t human chatter or gunfire…rather, it sounded like an animal…a dog barking…

John’s pistol was raised in time for the thick grass by the trees to start shaking and swaying as something tore through it. He held his fire as Anna raced out towards it, bending her knees just in time to be lunged at and laid out flat on the ground. John was already halfway towards her when he caught wind of the shrill whines and yelps coming out of the animal pinning her down; only after he heard her laughter did he finally lower his weapon, realizing what was taking place.

“Hey, boy!” she cooed, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck. “How’s my good boy, huh? How did you get all the way out here?”

John found himself wondering the same thing, eyes sweeping the horizon for any signs of an escort he’d misplaced. Boomer merely kept Anna trapped on the ground under his weight, showering her with kisses and nuzzles that had her eyes filled with happy tears. John watched them and felt a pull at his heartstrings; seeing the pure joy in her face was a beautiful, glorious sight…but he couldn’t help but feel a spark of dejection and envy that he only now was given the chance to bear witness to such a moment. He’d never inspired such emotion and happiness from her, not even the other night when they'd danced…

Stepping away to holster his pistol, he tried not to stare at the emotional reunion playing out before him with too much bitterness.

* * *

 

 

"My love, tell me what it's all about  
You've got somethin' that I can't live without  
Happiness is so hard to find  
Hey baby tell me what is on your mind  
  
'Cause I can't wait  
Baby 'til you call me on the telephone  
I can't wait  
Baby 'til we're all alone  
I can't wait  
  
You know I love you even when you don't try  
I know that our love can never die  
Hey darlin' when you look into my eyes  
Please tell me you'll never have to say goodbye  
  
'Cause I can't wait  
This is what I've been waitin' for  
I can't wait  
Baby, 'til my love walks in the door  
I can't wait  
Baby, true love is so hard to find  
I found yours you found mine  
I can't wait"

 

_I Can't Wait - Nu Shooz_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: "Heart and Soul" by T'Pau and "Get Down Saturday Night" by Oliver Cheatham are the two songs referenced.
> 
>  
> 
> Well...it's been a while, no getting around that.  
> I guess the good news is that while my health had been the main obstacle in the past, i'm doing much, much better now! Had to focus on getting more stable footing there for a while and I'm definitely in a better spot to put my energies towards a word doc again!  
> The better news is I haven't stopped writing during the hiatus - I have a lot written in advance that I'm hopeful to reach soon, since it means less of a wait time between chapters. I have no intention of leaving John and Anna's story unfinished, so I plan to keep soldiering on!  
> To all those who have left kudos and reviews: thank you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart, they help so much on the really bad days and always inspire me to keep going. If anyone's still around after all this time, i am sorry for the wait and i am very humbled and happy by your support <3  
> I promise - and i don't make that pledge lightly here - to have an update much, much sooner this time around. No more "months without update" happening. Until next time <3 <3 <3 Thanks again!


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